


A Star City Interlude

by juliesioux



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Love, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Romance, Sex, Shower Sex, Soulmates, Violence, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-04-07 21:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14089896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliesioux/pseuds/juliesioux
Summary: This will be an original murder mystery set within the universe I have created with the Ghost of Jupiter and Unimaginable trilogies.It starts two months after the usual goings on in Star City and how Oliver and Felicity pick up the pieces of their lives while on retreat in Klamath.  Once they return to Star City a new mystery begins and they find themselves embroiled in something that will take all of their wits to unravel and solve.This is a noir mystery full of violence and intrigue, love, sex and only the kind of intimacy these two can share but it is also a very personal story that introduces the next chapter in their lives as husband and wife, teammates and leaders of their community.Enjoy!





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

  
_The storm was a requiem_  
_Drawing one chapter to a close_  
_As another got ready to begin_.

 

 _It was now or never_ , she thought, _time to get out of this car and get moving._

So Felicity opened the car door and stepped out into the quiet, empty parking lot, listened for what she thought would hear and was surprised that she heard nothing. Standing in front of a forest so dense that sound couldn’t penetrate it, she paused to take a deep breath, zipped up her jacket and pulled her back pack up over her shoulders, and waited.

It was like the world had stopped to take a deep, shuddering breath. There was, for just that moment, no sound, no wind, just a pressure like the silence had form and was pressing in on everything it surrounded. The loamy, earthy smell that rose up from the well traveled path that joined to the concrete parking lot spoke of something promisingly different. A few steps beyond, the dense, Pacific Northwest forest rose up with trees so tall they seemed to scrape the sky.

The wind picked up but it was high in the trees and smelled of sea spray and something green and alive. There was the gentle sound of cedar branches brushing against each other, a light sweeping sound coming from a long way off, and the lonely creaking of the thinner trunks of Western hemlock trees high above her. The entire forest radiated an energy that was one of regeneration, immortality and resiliency. Trees had fallen, some so close to the path that they appeared to be pointing the way to the source of the smell on the wind, with many rotting back into the earth under a dense carpet of moss.

A few metres in, where the light grew diffuse and dim, the path began to descend and it was entering a refuge within an cathedral of trees. Surrounded by tall ferns and Sitka spruce, the air felt heavy laden, dense with moisture and the heady scent of the pine trees. Distantly, the sibilant sound of waves washing over large rocks drifted up to her, running like water over her shoes before cresting at the head of the path.

As the wind pulled back down towards the unseen shore, she felt the need to hurry, to get to where the sound was coming from, to see it, to feel the spray of the surf on her face. But the path was treacherous, slippery and steep, requiring patience and diligence so as to not stumble and fall. Her backpack kept her balanced on the long trek down through a forest that grew taller all around her.

The wind pushed back through the tall hemlocks and she stopped to watch them sway languidly back and forth. Every so often, the sharp crack of a breaking branch, and it’s erratic fall to earth, would pierce the silence. Birds called out as they darted between trees, and somewhere well out of sight, the timid footfalls of a deer could be heard but only if she strained against the now steadily blowing wind to hear it. An eagle screamed a warning and once again, the forest grew quiet.

In this remote and distant place, the landscape had a rhythm and song that continued on regardless whether any humans were there to hear it but hear it she could. As she finally made her way down the last few metres, the light returned, the sound of the waves grew louder, more insistent, and the ground changed shape. No longer was the path smooth and slick, it was rocky and hard but leveling out as the forest gave way to great the wild, West Coast shore.

There was no place to hide from the wind anymore and Felicity wouldn’t have it any other way. She had never been here but saw and felt the elegance of this land, the unbridled rawness of it had pulled at her heart and soul. As the cool wind hit her, she spied a large boulder bathed in sunlight, not too far in the distance, that held the promise of warmth. So she climbed over a network of fallen logs and made her way to it to contemplate what had driven her out of the city into the chaotic wildness of this remote stretch of beach.

The tide was going out, revealing small pools between the large rocks. They were shallow but teaming with life. Starfish, anemones, tiny crabs and seaweed strands that swirled with each pass of the diminishing waves. She took a moment to watch a crab make its way from one pool to another in search of a meal or a new home. It was the colour of the wet rocks that surrounded it and quicker than something so awkwardly shaped should be.

Stepping carefully around the pools, she made her way over rocks slippery with the remains of kelp and algae, until she was walking on soft, wet sand. The receding tide had left layers of debris, lost feathers, seaweed and the soft, gelatinous bodies of long dead jellyfish, that would wash back into the ocean depths when it returned. Felicity stopped and watched the waves bubble low and frothy and she listened to the seagulls calling out somewhere just out of sight.

The sun was trying to push through the mist and fog but even now, at midday, the wind was cold and the light dark. A storm was brewing far out over the open ocean but there was no guarantee that it would land on this desolate shore. Felicity was ready for wet weather if it arrived. Her backpack contained all she needed for a rainstorm and if she got hungry, she had a snack prepared earlier that morning by Oliver.

She paused as she thought about him and the look on his face when he left their beach house. He hadn’t been angry or hurt or upset. He had been distracted and withdrawn. The events of the last three months had taken their toll on him. On them both, if she were to be honest with herself, but they were making progress in repairing the hurt left behind.

A soft, golden glint caught her eye and she paused. Her wedding ring reminded her of the importance of this trip. He had called and asked her to join him here. He had sounded weary and alone, both tones that concerned her. He was in a dark place. Maybe the darkest she had ever seen him in but the ring on her finger was vibrating, reminding her that this was the work of being married, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Looking up the beach, she spotted a dark clad figure sitting on a boulder that sat, forlorn and isolated, a few metres offshore. He hadn’t seen her yet, so she stopped to study his pensive form. Oliver’s body language was a thing of wonder. He could tell a story with a simple set of his shoulders or small movement of his hands. Yet out here, in front of a landscape in constant motion, he was completely still.

“Oliver!” she called in her loudest voice.

He turned to find her and she felt her heart grow to bursting as a slow smile crossed over his face. His expression was still guarded, but she saw an opening and took it. Unfortunately, that meant climbing the boulder to join him. She wasn’t sure if she could do it, but nothing was going to keep her from Oliver. Not now, not ever.

“No, love, let me come down,” he called down to her, his voice threading its way through the wind to her.

Secretly relieved, she waited for him to descend to earth. He was lithe and quick for his size. He must have scaled it in a matter of seconds based on the way he was able to join her by simply leaping down. He landed softly and without so much as even a soft grunt. She looked up at him with a wry smile and resisted the urge to reach out to him. He was still holding himself away from her and it was making her cautious.

“You came prepared,” he said softly, motioning towards her backpack.  
“I wasn’t sure about the weather or where this place was...Oliver…,” she trailed off uncertain. An unrestrained sadness flooded through her but she stood her ground.

Instinctively, Oliver stepped towards her and pulled her into his arms. At first, they were both reserved, stiff and unyielding. The events leading to this moment had taken a toll on the easy intimacy they normally shared but only for a moment. The closeness of the other was all it took until the embrace shifted from one of simple familiarity to one of desperate necessity.

Felicity gripped his jacket in two fistfuls and held on. She could feel him trembling just a tiny bit as he buried his face in her hair. They stood this way, reluctant to let the other go, until she looked up at him, blinking away tears, and willed him to look at her.

“Why this place?” she asked, struggling hard against the tidal pull of his blue eyes. How easily she could lose herself in them, no matter the tension that existed between them. Right now they were a stormy grey, reflecting the environment within and without.

“I saw it on the way to Klamath. Or the cut off on a billboard,” he smiled, smoothing her hair out of her eyes, “it seemed like someplace to see.”  
“It is isolated and perfectly suited to you.”

Oliver lowered his head so that his forehead rested on hers and closed his eyes. Felicity felt the struggle he was pushing through, the way his breathing changed the longer she held onto him, and the way his body finally relaxed. The bridge that always existed between was finally ready to be crossed.

“Felicity,” he said softly, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”  
“I just don’t understand why, Oliver. Why here?”  
“I know, I owe you an explanation. Maybe let’s go sit down nearer to the trees?”

There was a strange element of pleading in his voice. Like he wasn’t sure she would follow him. The rings on both of their fingers spoke otherwise but she knew he understood that. Linking their hands together, she waited for him to lead the way.

The wind was picking up, carrying the smell of ozone on its back. There was a storm raging somewhere out of sight, causing large waves to form and crash on small rocky islands that littered this part of the coast. It was powerfully beautiful out here. It was a transitional space between the densely forested areas to the north, and the windswept, wide open beaches to the south. She was almost glad to be here.

Oliver gently cupped her face with his free hand, trailing his thumb tenderly down her cheek, his expression softening just enough to let her breathe just a bit easier. Unconsciously, she had shifted closer to him, letting her heart be drawn to his, ready to reestablish the casual intimacy they so normally shared.

“Let’s go and sit,” he said, his voice low and rumbling like the tumultuous sea behind him.  
“Ok,” she agreed, her eyes glued to his.

Hands still linked, they headed towards the treeline to where a sun bleached tree trunk had washed up on shore. Oliver had spread a blanket out on the drier sand and left his backpack tucked out of sight under the log. Felicity smiled to herself, imagining someone, anyone, being dumb enough to try and steal from him and hoping to make it more than three feet down the beach or into the forest beyond.

“You made yourself at home,” she teased as she removed her backpack and sat down on the slightly damp blanket.  
“Just for the afternoon,” he chuckled as he sank down next to her, “I figure the blanket will be too wet to sit on before too long.”  
“That’s ok,” she said just as the sky let out a deep, growling burst of thunder, “You have got to be kidding me.”  
“Did you bring a rain jacket?” he asked as he dug into his backpack for his.  
“I did but I also went one better,” she said as she produced a tarp.  
“You are amazing.”

She unfolded it just as the first drops started to fall. Thinking quickly, Oliver pulled her to her feet grabbed their belongings and lifted her over the washed up tree. It was large enough for them to hunker down behind on drier sand, using their rain jackets to sit on and the tarp as protection from the rain. Felicity folded the blanket to use as a cushion for them to lean against while Oliver tucked the tarp in around them and anchored it over their heads.

They were just getting comfortable when the sky opened up with a deafening roar and the squall that had been developing out over the open ocean found its way to land. Instinctively, Oliver wrapped his arm around Felicity and pulled her tight to his side as the rain started to fall in traveling sheets over them.

“This is cozy,” she teased, snuggling in closer to him as the wind picked up even more.  
“I had no idea that there was a storm coming this close to shore,” he said apologetically.  
“It’s ok, Oliver, we’ve been through worse.”  
“We have, haven’t we?”

They fell into an easy silence, reconnecting silently as they waited for a lull in the storm. Oliver was gently rubbing her arm, an unconscious gesture of comfort she welcomed, when she hazarded a glance up at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep. He wasn’t asleep but seemingly in deep meditation.

A wave of sadness washed over her. For the last two months they had drifted further and further away from one another as they each sought to heal from the damage left by their most recent nemesis. There had been so much hurt and death that she felt beaten in a way she hadn’t felt since the bombs flew that soul crushing night when Damian Darhk tried to end the world.

She was studying the pattern of his jacket when her tears slowly began to fall. She missed their life together, the one they were just starting to build in the shadow of all the uncertainty their night activities. At any moment, regardless of how much care they took, it could all end and she was determined to fight for them now, to find a way back to something normal.

“Hey, hey,” distantly she heard his voice and felt his hand tilting her head up, “Felicity…”  
“I’m sorry,” she half cried, half laughed, “I’m just feeling...lost.”

He didn’t reply with words. Instead, with so much tenderness her world tilted, he pressed a long kiss to her forehead. All the love they shared sparked into life between them. Felicity wound an arm around his waist and gripped onto his jacket wanting the moment to continue for as long as possible.

“We have a lot to sort through don’t we?” he asked softly.  
“We do.”  
“Where should we start?  
“At the beginning but can we wait until we get somewhere warm? I’m freezing,” she said with an attempt at a smile.  
“Ok,” he said softly, his eyes traveling over her face, taking in every small movement and how her lips parted when she breathed.  
“Oliver…,” was all she got out before his lips found hers.

She had missed these spontaneous kisses, the kind that used to make her laugh when his scruff would rub against her face or sigh as they deepened into something erotic and intense. She wanted to weep for the longing it awoke within her but instead she opened herself to it, feeling the soft velvet of his tongue against her own. A burst of thunder over head pulled them apart but their eyes remained locked on each other

“I love you, Felicity, and I know I have let you down,” he murmured, his face flushed with the sudden surge of desire.  
“I love you, too, Oliver, but you didn’t let me down. Not even when you decided it best to send William away to live with his grandparents. But…,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “what happened wasn’t your fault. Nothing you, or me, could have done could have prevented tall those deaths. That was and is all on Dragon. And I am glad he is dead.”  
“I thought we were going to wait to start until we got somewhere warm,” he smiled wryly.  
“We aren’t beginning,” she chuckled softly, “I’m giving you the room you need to figure out why this wedge is between us and how we can figure out how to move past it.”

The wind was tapering off and the rain had eased to a drizzle. Oliver stuck an arm out to see if the rain was still coming down but his arm came back fairly dry. The squall had passed over them and was heading inland. From where they sat, they could hear the trees thrashing in the distance and the loud cracks of branches as they broke free from supporting trunks and crashed to the earth.

“Can we go back to the beach house?” she asked hesitantly. “We only have a few days to ourselves.”  
“Ok but could you give me to my car? It’s about 5 miles from here.”

Felicity laughed as she hugged him. Only Oliver, her husband of almost a year, would think she would leave him stranded on a narrow stretch of beach without a way to get home. He had hiked the long way in, just like she thought he would, and was now obviously regretting it.

“Ok, come on before the tide comes in and we are stranded,” she said, pulling the tarp off of their heads.  
“I can’t believe you actually hiked out here to join me,” he said, amused and delighted in equal measure.  
“Anything for you,” she smiled.

It took half an hour for them to walk the steep path back up to the parking lot. When they spoke, it was in hushed tones, the silence of the forest commanded it. Even when the wind picked up and the thunder rumbled up the steep path, they didn’t run or raise their voices to be heard. They slowly left the crashing waves and wild beach behind them and stepped out of the confines of the forest and onto the hard concrete of the parking lot.

Felicity looked up at Oliver and felt a renewed sense of purpose and dedication to this complicated, brave, impossibly big hearted man. It wouldn’t ever matter how far apart they drifted, they would always call to each other across time and space, from one life to the next. Now all she wanted was a hot drink, dry clothes and a fire to rest in front of.

The energy between them was relaxed on the drive to his car. They joked gently and teased each other using knowledge gleaned over years of learning and knowing each other. She was sad when he got out of her car for his own. The only saving grace was the drive back to their beach house was a short one and soon she would be warm in its embrace as well as his.


	2. The End of The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a table setting chapter to be honest but one that involves Oliver and Felicity very carefully and lovingly reconnecting after a series of tragedies.
> 
> They are open and honest with each other, finding their way through the pain without losing themselves or each other. There is lots of love, laughing, tears and sex and honesty in this chapter.
> 
> But there are seeds being planted for what is coming. An honest to goodness mystery and a boat in the bay.

**Chapter One: The End of The Beginning**

_He reached across the Universe_   
_Trailing his fingers through the stars_   
_Waiting for her to find him_

I

Oliver pulled up to the beach house twenty minutes after Felicity. There was a grocery and wine store just off the highway, about a mile before the cut off to their private getaway. It was more of a stand but they held a selection of local wines, cheeses and produce that couldn’t be beat by any store in a 15 mile radius. He had gotten to know the owners quite well over the last few months and was able to get specialty foods ordered in to coincide with his and Felicity’s retreats to the beach house.

This time it was a specific maple syrup for the waffles he was going to make for them in the morning. Yet the first thing that he saw were the buckets of flowers. Daisies, carnations, dahlias, roses, and delphiniums, stacked in buckets all along one wall. Felicity wasn’t what he would call a woman who required flowers or even wanted them but there were times when he wanted to buy them for her.

A simple stop for groceries turned into one where he bought a bouquet of dahilias, roses and delphiniums, a bottle of white wine he was told was the best of the season, and fresh strawberries. She deserved a treat after climbing down a steep path to a beach literally in the middle of nowhere. The maple syrup would be a surprise left hidden until the morning.

The day was growing darker as the storm passed over head. It wasn’t raining but whatever was happening was pushing clouds into a dense blanket over them. It suited his mood. He reflected on the the previous two months and all the loss and death they had faced as a united front along with Diggle. When Dinah, Rene, and Curtis had left the team, he had been relieved but when they tried to face off against Dragon on their own it had ended in their violent deaths by point blank gunshots to their heads.

He felt some measure of guilt about their deaths but ultimately, the decision to be vigilantes and fight the monsters that roamed Star City’s streets had been their own. Their deaths closed a chapter on his life that he would not look back on with fondness or ever attempt to repeat. It had almost torn Felicity from his life but the strength of their commitment to one another had seen them through the grief and trauma. Their ability to share strength and trust had allowed them to weather the storm without drowning in guilt.

In the end, they made the decision to send WIlliam off to live with his grandparents for the time being. It was the best decision in the wake of the upheaval left after the FBI had tried to take away his freedom and the return of Roy to the fold. Having Diggle, Roy and Thea working with him and Felicity was the one bright spot in an otherwise dark time for them all. It made the sting of losing William, even if for just a short time, a little easier to bear.

The lights were on when he pulled up to the house. It radiated warmth, beckoning him to come inside, to join her wherever she was and he took a moment to let that feeling sink in all the way to his bones. He missed the anticipation and joy of coming home to her. He had taught her how to lay a fire and was pleased to see wisps of smoke drifting on the currents of air produced by the swirling winds.

He loved this house. Felicity had made sure it was as private as possible, not even Diggle knew where it was, and it was all but cut off from the rest of the world unless one of them brought a satellite phone with them. He had been both surprised and touched when she gave him the key to it on the night they exchanged rings. It was her wedding gift to him and it was still one of the only places where they were able to build happy memories together.

Quietly, he slipped into the house through the backdoor and spied Felicity in front of the large living room sliding glass doors. She had changed into clean sweatpants and an oversized sweater even though it wasn’t all that cold outside. She looked relaxed and cozy as she looked out over a tumultuous autumn sea.

“Hey,” he called softly.  
“Hey, what took you so long?” she asked.

Handing her the bouquet, he said, “I stopped and got you these.”  
“What’s the occasion?”  
“Do I need one?” he asked as she slowly slipped closer to him.  
“Never,” she smiled.

Opening his arms, he welcomed her into a long embrace. After the tension of the day, it was exactly what he needed and he expected it was what she needed, too. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on top of hers and took a deep breath. He hadn’t been sure that he wanted to be all the way out here but couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but with her in their private home.

“Should we tell Diggle and William where this place is one day?” she asked.  
“Maybe. But not yet.”  
“I like that it is ours.”  
“Me, too.”

Felicity tilted her head back and smiled gently up at him. The storm outside was forgotten as he fell into her gaze. Her eyes were always in motion, reflecting the energy inside her. She was never completely still, not even when she slept, but he always felt such an unrelenting sense of peace when he was next to her.

“Dinner?” he asked quietly.  
“Please. I am starving,” she said with an exaggerated groan.  
“Ok, ok!” he laughed, “Go put the flowers in water while I get it ready.”  
“I love having my own personal chef,” she teased.

In lieu of an answer, Oliver quickly rubbed his three day old beard growth against her neck and planted a loud, wet kiss on her cheek. He was rewarded by a loud laugh and fierce hug. This was a part of Felicity he always knew existed but now delighted in sharing. She was playful and adventurous in ways that liberated him but most specifically, she was joyous and he loved her with a fierceness that burned hot in his blood.

“I am going to condition your face one day,” she grumbled as she walked away.

Oliver had no doubt that she would try but lucky for him, he had a distinct advantage in that he was almost a foot taller than she was and in the shower, that made all the difference in the world.

“Hey, do you think we should paint the living room? Maybe something in a pale blue or green?” Felicity was slowly making the beach house their own with small touches. Painting the bedroom had been her first change. It had been a warm red and it took them six coats of white to cover it enough for her to change it to a shade of gold that lit up at dusk and made the room glow. He teased her about it at first but loved the way it looked no matter the time of day.

Looking around, he noticed more changes she had made to room. Framed pictures from their trip around the world dotted the shelves that framed the fireplace on the far wall, a blanket on the couch looked familiar and he was sure it was the one she had dragged from Ivy Town. The bedroom, besides the wall colour, was filled with items of their life together from the moment they met. She was surrounding them with memories, of reminders their life together and hints of times to come.

“Why don’t we leave it white for now,” he suggested, “I kinda like it.”  
“Ok...how about the bathroom?”  
“What about it?” he was only half listening as he plated their dinner. It was one of leftovers from the night, steak, potatoes and kale salad, before but the wine he picked up would make it seem like he worked hard.  
“How about we get a copper tub?”

Oliver paused after he poured their wine. He had wanted a copper tun in Star City but couldn’t find a way to get it installed in their condo. He knew that Felicity knew he wanted one. Badly.

“Felicity,” he said in a low voice, “do not tease me.”  
“I’m not teasing. I think we should get one.”  
“It would cost a fortune,” he cautioned weakly.  
“We can afford it, Oliver. My company is starting to gain momentum now, you are doing okay as Mayor...let’s do it.”  
“Okay,” he agreed.  
“That was easy.”  
“Well…”  
“Oliver…,” she warned with a stern look that made him burst out laughing.

Instead of the comeback he had on the tip of his tongue, he pointed at the table, now with its fresh flower centerpiece, and brought their dinner over. Felicity had set the table and had found the candles they had brought out their first weekend before the electricity had been turned back on. They had spent the entire time in bed or on the couch in front of the fire. It was as close to a honeymoon as they would have for a while and what he remembered above all else was the tender way she loved him back to wholeness.

“I’m glad all we did was update the stereo. No tv and no internet is...liberating,” she said around a mouthful of steak. As usual, she was discreetly moving the kale salad aside, taking small bites to appease him in his drive to get her to eat more vegetables only when she caught his bemused stare.

He loved sitting down and having actual dinner with her. Soft music, no phone calls, no interruptions but he missed William and the family they were creating together. They had made the right choice in sending him to live with his mother’s parents though. William had wanted to stay but the murders of Rene, Dinah and Curtis had convinced him that he should go for just a few months.

Things were quiet in the city now, but his gut was telling him to be cautious. He could feel something unsettled all around him when they were in the city and he had learned to trust that feeling. He could sense Felicity watching him but he avoided her eyes, knowing that she was searching for something he didn’t have the answer for yet.

_Not yet, he thought as the returning sunlight glinted off of her hair, creating a halo around her head._   
_Not yet, he thought as he reflected on the way they had lost three former teammates._   
_Not yet, he thought as he reached across to her to hold her hand, feeling the warmth of her against his skin._

“Couch?” she asked, her voice husky and low.

He nodded. They hadn’t been intimate for a couple of weeks. Stress and anxiousness on both of their parts had done the unthinkable: killed their libidos. Yet now, even in her bulky sweater that hid her form, he saw the woman that filled his days with wonder and his nights with a love so intense it had changed his life and the way he wanted to live it.

The fire was still hot, though no longer roaring, but that didn’t deter him from pulling the woolen blanket she had brought from home over them. He spotted a picture on the mantle that caused him to pause. It was the two of them at the reception he hosted after they got married. It was a simple picture of the two of them dancing with eyes only for each other.

“That photo...who took it?” he asked as she cuddled into his side, looping her legs over his, “I can’t remember seeing that in the photographer's proofs.”  
“Hmmm? That one of us dancing? Thea took it. She gave that to me last week but...but last week was difficult,” she said in a halting, careful voice.  
“I know...I went to dark place for a bit,” he admitted.  
“You did but I get it. I wasn’t exactly in a great space either.”  
“But you didn’t lash out. You kept your head and kept us all safe.”  
“I was so angry, Oliver, but not at you…,” her voice trailed off but her hand sought out of his under the blanket.  
“I was just...enraged at myself. At Dragon. At three people who should have known better but still went ahead and tried to do the impossible. I was...lost in not feeling guilty or responsible but angry…just so angry. Like all the tactical and physical training Diggle and I gave them was ignored and they did it on purpose.”

They sat in silence as the room slowly darkened around the edges. Oliver could feel the tension in her body slowly begin to gather. She was gearing up to something and it was taking time to rise to the surface. He suspected it was going to be something about Quentin Lance and the fate that he met at the hands of the woman he thought could replace his long dead daughter.

“Oliver, we need to talk about Quentin.”  
“I don’t know if I can,” he said, a hitch in his voice as a surge of true grief threatened to push to the surface. Quentin’s death the prior weekend had ripped a hole in his heart and life.

Felicity pushed up off his chest and turned sideways to look at him. “If we don’t, it’s going to scar us.”  
“Hasn’t it already?”  
“Oliver, we did all we could to help him see the light but he made his choice.”  
“It still feels like we let him down and watched instead of helping,” Oliver was trying to not let emotion creep into his voice but he was losing that battle.  
“We couldn’t break through that barrier he had set up around himself. He was determined to make that horrible woman his daughter. He lost the ability to listen to reason,” she sounded defeated to his ears so he pulled her closer until her face was a few inches from his.

“Felicity, I know that but we could have tried harder. She murdered him. After all the kindness he showed her, all the respect and acceptance, for her to…,” he trailed off, feeling equal measures of anger and grief vying to be released.  
“What she did was beyond horrific. I am glad she is gone,” Felicity’s voice held steel in it and rage. She had never trusted Earth Two Laurel and was both sickened and furious after she killed Lance.  
“I miss him. He became a stand in for my father...all those years, all that we went through...I just miss him,” he finished helplessly, pressing his forehead to hers.  
“I do, too, love. I miss his gruff love, his kindness. If we could bring him back…”  
“I wonder what Sara would say if she were still here,” he wondered out loud.  
“I think in this case she would say yes,” she sounded mournful and tired to his ears.

“We didn’t even try to stop Dragon from killing that….woman. We could have, we could have done so much more but John and I...we just let it happen. Quentin would not be proud of us for that,” Oliver said softly.  
“Don’t hold any guilt over that, Oliver. If you had done anything, you would have most likely joined her in the grave. You made the right choice and Quentin would have understood,” her voice held an edge to it that pulled at his heart. She had been forceful with him in the past but her voice always held warmth and compassion at its core, but lately when she spoke there was a hardness to her that he didn’t recognize.

“I don’t hold any guilt over her death. I just sometimes feel...like maybe we could have stopped it being so vicious. Dragon was a monster,” he all but growled the last three words. His hatred for that man ran deep.

“But he’s dead. Anatolyi has disappeared. The Bratva is gone from Star City. We need to figure us out now,” she said softly.  
“You mean what comes next.”  
“Yes, whatever it is. We,” she gestured to him and then back to her, “need to figure this out for us so that we aren’t snapping at each other the way we were last week.”  
“John was ready to kill us,” he chuckled.  
“I thought he might,” she smiled up at him, “but he knows us.”  
“He does. Felicity, I haven’t said this in a while but I love you. I truly, truly, truly love you.”

She didn’t say anything in reply, instead she slowly sat up and straddled his lap. Cupping his face in hands, she looked deep into his eyes and said, “I never doubted that for a single moment, Oliver. Not a single moment.”

And then she kissed him. It was tender and sweet. Her lips tasted like the wine from dinner and when she ran her hands over his head and down his neck, he felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He had missed this kind of easy intimacy, when the rest of the world fell away and all that mattered was the energy and love between them.

“Hey,” she whispered in concern, “what is it, love?”  
“Just...I missed this. You,” he whispered as she kissed his cheeks free of tears.  
“Me, too,” was all she said and kissed him again, passionately and deeply.

Her tongue slipped past his lips and he felt the velvety sweep of it over his own. She woke up something primal in him, something that felt ancient and alive in his blood. Running his hands up under her sweater, he felt only the soft skin of her lower back and nothing else. He let his fingers trace the rough pathways of her interconnecting scars from when she was shot before brushing lightly over her breasts and nipples. He loved the soft skin that ran down the centre of her chest.

She was holding onto him, pressing her body into his, not letting him come up for air. He pushed himself up from the couch, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other pulling the blanket off of them. He didn’t want to make love to her on the couch. They had been out here for three days and this was the first time in almost two weeks they had reached for each other. He wanted to take his time and for them both to be comfortable.

The sun was slowly peeking out from behind the gathering storm clouds and the room was glowing, soft and hazy, as the sun journeyed below the curve of the horizon. She had chosen well when she selected the paint for the room and the bed she picked out, to replace the older one they had slept on a year ago, was the centerpiece to their oasis.

It was a king sized masterpiece of softness, height and design. She refused to tell him how much she paid for it but he sensed it was an enormous amount. As he laid her on it, he was thankful for her indulgence.

“Oliver?” he heard her voice, husky and low in his ear.  
“Hmmm?” his voice was muffled against her neck.  
“I love you.”  
“Forever and always?” he asked, trailing his lips down her neck.  
“Into our next life and beyond,” she sighed.

Oliver smiled into the kiss he gave her. Her hands pulled at his shirt, working their way across his back. He loved the way her fingertips felt in the valleys of his scars. She once told him that every line that crossed his body told a story that she knew by heart but loved to rediscover every night. He felt his body responding to her touch and tried to control it.

With a gentle push, Felicity got him to turn over onto his back. She swung one leg over him and straddled his hips. She smiled as she felt his erection rub against her inner thighs and then slowly took off her sweater. He reached for her but she leaned back and began to slip her sweats off her hips. Oliver sat up and cradled her as she removed them completely.

She pulled at his shirt, lifting it up and off his body. She leaned back to drop it off the bed and he dipped his head low, tenderly licking and sucking one nipple and then the other until a low moan rumbled out of her throat. She tasted salty and metallic, a reminder of the exertion of their hike earlier that day. Felicity gripped his shoulders hard enough to leave marks but it allowed him the free reign to slip his pants off his hips and space enough to kick them off his legs to the floor below.

Cupping his face, Felicity brought his head up so that she could find his lips. The kiss was messy, passionate but he could feel her need growing every time she sucked on his tongue or bottom lip. He felt her small but strong fingers grasp his hard cock and slowly begin to stroke it, helping it to grow harder and harder until he gasped, his chest heaving as he tried to control the impulse to thrust inside her.

Instead, he let his upper body fall back and used his powerful legs to move them further up the bed. The movement jostled her, causing her to slip up his body and ended up straddling his chest. On a whim, he slipped his body down a few inches so that he forced her legs further apart. He looked up at her, her skin glowing in the dying light, and saw her small smile. He kissed the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs, brushing his stubble gently against her as he did, and then pulled her towards his mouth.

He felt her shudder as the tip of his tongue pushed up against her clit, circling it in slow, languid sweeps. He loved the smell and taste of her, how she responded to the gentle motion of his tongue and the insistent way he would suck in undulating pressure until her chest heaved and she gripped onto his hands to keep herself steady above him.

Her thighs started to tremble, and he felt her hot and slick against his lips and chin, as he increased the tempo he sucked and licked her her clit. When she arched her back, he stopped and waited. She sagged just a bit and he used the release of tension to move one of her legs up off his shoulder and gently urged her to lay back on the bed.

“Oliver,” she sighed, “you are an evil, evil man.”  
“I know my wife,” was all he said as he moved over top of her.

They laid there like that, gazing into each other’s eyes, for what felt like an eternity. He was certain entire galaxies were born and died in the time they took to reconnect without words. She ran her hands over his head and down his shoulder, feeling every muscle ridge and scar, seeking out his marked skin, claiming it as her own. The tension was building between their bodies, he could feel the electricity in the air around them.

With one simple movement, he pushed his hard cock into her. Her eyes widened just a bit and then closed. She wrapped her legs high around his hips and moved with him, letting the tempo build slowly until she was clung to him and cried out in ecstasy. Her entire body throbbed and pulsed as she thrust hard against him. Oliver effortlessly flipped them over, allowing her to regain her breath.

She looked at him quizzically and asked, “Tired of doing all the work?”  
“Felicity, I know you.”  
“And I know my husband,” she murmured as she moved her hips in a grinding, circular pattern causing him to gasp at the intensity of the way her body held onto his.

Unbidden, Felicity thrust hard against him. He reached up for her and she caught his hands, linked them together and kissed them both as another orgasm rolled over her. Her body vibrated all around him and he tried to hold his own back but his hips moved harder and faster until the pressure in his lower pelvis erupted and he came inside her in a series of hard, shuddering thrusts.

Felicity collapsed against his chest, a thin film of sweat covering her body, and breathed in sync with him, trying to catch her breath. He wrapped his arms around her in answer and held her tight to him, gently running his hands up and down her back. The scars left by bullets and a surgeon’s knife felt hot and alive under his fingertips.

He felt something hot splash against his chest and heard Felicity’s soft sniffling as she cried almost silently in his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, hoping the alarm in his voice was well hidden, “What is it?”  
“I missed this. I missed you. Oliver, I missed us,” her voice cracked around the edges as she answered him, “I love how I feel with you, like this…”

Reaching across the bed, he pulled the duvet over top of them, shielding them from the cool evening air. He knew what she meant. They had pulled themselves inward after Dragon killed their former teammates, hoping to avoid all the pain that had surrounded them for the past two months. They had even tried protecting each other from the ghosts and demons that haunted them after Black Siren murdered Quentin, trying to find a way through the grief alone. It hadn’t worked, but it had been a valiant effort on their part.

“I knew we would find each other again,” he whispered close to her ear, “we always do, don’t we?”  
“We do,” she sighed softly.  
“Let’s go wash up,” he suggested softly, “ I think you still have dishes to do…”  
“Ah no. I think the dishwasher still has dishes to do,” she retorted smartly.

Laughing, Oliver kissed her neck and waited for her to slip off of him and the bed. He watched her, naked and barefoot, as she made her way to the bathroom. With a small smile, he got up to join her. She was so at home clothed or unclothed but he loved the quiet confidence that she wore instead in this moment.

“Hands above the waist, Mister,” she said sternly when he joined her in the already steamy room.  
“Don’t be unreasonable, Felicity.”  
“I know you,” she smiled, giving him a look of quiet seduction.

It was a look he was unable to resist. They were finally connected again, their inhibitions were gone. They had avoided contact with each other, even in bed, they had slept on opposite sides of the bed, showering always alone. Now, as she stepped under the hot water, he reached for her favourite body wash, turned her around so her back was to him and began a ritual they had established when they started their world tour two years ago.

She pressed her hands over his as he washed her, following the meandering path they took over her breasts, stomach and down to her thighs. She turned her head and looked up at him, willing him to do what they both knew was coming. He leaned low and kissed her, softly at first but then with an intensity that seemed to explode out of them both. He sucked on her tongue and slowly slipped his hand between her legs.

“Oliver,” she mumbled against his lips, “you are below the waist.”  
“Am I?,” he grinned as he circled her clit with his thumb, slowly pressing harder and harder until she gasped and pressed back into him.  
“God, Oliver,” she moaned, “don’t stop…”

He didn’t but somehow he managed to turn her back around so that she was facing him. Slowly, with their eyes locked together, he pushed two fingers inside her and started a demanding, thrusting tempo. He watched as her eyes dilated and smiled as she gripped his shoulders to keep herself standing. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he pulled her tight against him and kissed her as her hips demanded he move harder and faster.

The shower ritual was one he looked forward to almost every night. They didn’t always end in sex, sometimes they just washed each other clean from the residue of the night and so she could tend his wounds. They were private, erotic, intimate moments that let them simply be in each other’s company without having to worry about anyone interrupting them.

“I love you, Oliver,” she murmured against his lips.  
“I love you, too, Felicity. From day one.”

He felt her hips buck and thrust hard against him and he felt a surge of hot, silken wet heat cover his fingers. Her back arched, she tightened her thighs around his hand and let her orgasm thunder through her body. He felt his bones rattle at the force of it and slowly removed his fingers from her body, letting her drift free in ecstasy.

“Mr. Queen, you know me so well,” she sighed, her hands massaging his back.  
“I do, don’t I?”  
“I think it’s your turn. Gimme the loofah.”

Oliver chuckled and handed her the still soapy loofah. He was expecting her to wash his back and chest like she always did so he tilted his head back, letting the water run over his face but she did something unexpected. While his eyes were closed, she knelt down and delicately took his soft cock into her mouth. The sensation of the water running over his body and the warmth of her mouth wrapped around him pushed a low, deep moan out of him. He wasn’t sure his body would respond but slowly, through the gentle but firm way she sucked and licked him, his cock started to harden.

“Felicity…,” he gasped.

She didn’t answer with words, instead she stroked him as she swirled her tongue over the sensitive head of his cock. With each movement, he grew harder in her mouth until he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. When his leg twitched, she stood up and looked at him, letting him decide what he wanted.

In a blink of an eye, he picked her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, grasped his cock and thrust inside her. He stepped towards the wall so that she would have some support, even though he didn’t need the help, and stopped.

“This is going to be fast, Felicity,” he panted, feeling his entire body twitching with the desire to pound his hips against her.  
“Stop talking,” she murmured, pulling him down and into a demanding, soul searing kiss.

Conscious thought fled and he let his hips move at the pace they needed to. He worried he was being too rough but felt her respond with fervor. She cried out, clawed at his back, and came with force, her body shuddering, shaking and pulsating around his throbbing cock. He was almost ready to join her, the fire in his pelvis was slowly unleashing, working outward and throughout his body, when he felt her lips on his chest.

She was tracing the ridges of the burned and mottled flesh that represented the remains of the Bratva tattoo that Prometheus had burned off. It has healed unevenly and was something he felt disfigured him. Felicity had shown him that wasn’t true and was reminding him of that truth with the tip of her soft tongue and the gentle press of her lips against it.

It was the trigger for him to let his orgasm finally thundered through his body, erupting in a series of deep, hard thrusts. He held her tight, letting her slowly letting her find her way back down to earth. Felicity clung to him, holding him as they both trembled in the cooling water.

“You are amazing, Felicity,” he whispered, “I think I saw God at the end there.”  
“Oliver, you say that every other time we do this.”  
“I’m not lying!” he exclaimed in mock indignation.  
“Not to be gross, but I am glad we installed a bidet.”

Oliver groaned as she left the shower to dry off and finish cleaning up. He hadn’t understood at first but after a painful health class from her, accompanied by pictures and website information, he did. He finished his own shower and went to get dressed. They hadn’t had the dessert he planned so he went back to the kitchen and pulled it out of the fridge.

“Hey now,” she said softly, sidling up to him, dried off and dressed in her pajamas, “you did NOT tell me that you got strawberries for us.”  
“And dark chocolate sauce and raspberry ice cream.”  
“Oh my God. I need to sit down,” she groaned but grabbed her bowl and headed for the couch.  
“So I guess we are leaving tomorrow. I wish we hadn’t come out separately,” he commented as he joined her, letting her tuck them in under the green woolen blanket.

Felicity licked her spoon clean before saying, “Well, you were the one that opted to leave in the middle of the night.”  
“I...was in a mood.”  
“You don’t say.”

Oliver nudged her in the ribs and continued to eat the indulgent dessert. He had been angry with everyone but struggling to keep it to himself so as to not upset her. After Quentin’s funeral, he had needed to be somewhere alone so that he could process all the loss and pain without it becoming internalized.

He had deliberately suggested they get away knowing she had a meeting she couldn’t miss and left a day ahead of her. He had spent the day alone running on the beach and exploring the shoreline. He had burned through a week’s worth of stress and tension in a 25 mile run. By the time Felicity had joined him, he was finally feeling relaxed but was still apprehensive about being alone with her.

In the way that only she could, she had put all his fears to rest by joining him and then following him out to that distant, isolated beach. There would always be work to do in their marriage but everyday he felt the depth of their commitment grow and strengthen. His life would always be full with her in it. When it was time for William to come home, things would be more complete. One day, though, they would have a child of their own and his heart sped up just a tiny bit in joyful anticipation of that day.

“So, what movie is on tap? It’s your turn to pick,” she said, nudging him back.  
“My favourite,” he said as he reached for the remote.  
“Die Hard. Always Die Hard.”  
“You will grow to love it, I promise.”  
“You are luck I love you because this is the twentieth time we have watched this since December,” she grumbled.  
“Eighteen. I’ve been counting to see how long it would take for you to put your foot down.”  
“I am glad we have separate cars for going home all of a sudden.”

Oliver laughed and settled in. The rest of the night went by far too quickly. They talked quietly about upcoming mayoral fundraisers and the best way to make sure they were building the best and safest home possible. As the movie was coming to an end, he felt a shift in how Felicity was breathing. She has quietly fallen asleep with her head on his chest.

He pressed a kiss to her head, turned off the tv and carefully picked her up. It was still early but he knew his wife and she knew him. Now that they had found one another again, he wasn’t sure if their bodies could be trusted to not respond to each other. But for now, as he got into bed beside her, sleeping in the same bed connected once again, was good enough.

Before too long, Oliver slipped off to sleep and missed the storm that gathered overhead and thundered throughout the minutes after midnight. Felicity turned over in her sleep and instinctively wrapped her arms around him, keeping them both anchored and under the veil of sleep.

II

Oliver woke up early the next morning. Their bedroom was still dark but he could see a shift in the light coming in from the kitchen and knew morning was just beginning. He wanted to get up but he was warm, content and happy to just stay wrapped in the duvet with Felicity nestled into his side, fast asleep. He was just starting to drift off back to sleep when he felt her stir.

“It’s so early,” she lamented, pulling the duvet over her head. She always woke up a few minutes after him in the city and couldn’t shake the habit out here.  
“We can still sleep,” he murmured but she had already fallen back asleep.

He closed his eyes and drifted off into that space between consciousness and unconsciousness. Images flashed and faded as he sought to find sleep again and he had almost succeeded when he heard Quentin’s final words before he died.

“My mistake was thinking you were redeemable, you aren’t. You are evil to the bone. I have only one daughter left and Sara knows I love her for who she is and I always will.”

Oliver awoke fully with a start. He didn’t want to relive what came next at the hands of Black SIren and her sonic scream. He couldn’t revisit that moment now or any time in the near future. It had left a scar on his soul that rivaled the one left by Slade when he murdered his mother. He had admitted to himself, in his lowest point after Quentin’s murder, that the only thing that could push him lower would be to lose Felicity. He had wept that night, alone in the bunker, and resolved to never let anyone take her from his life. Not even himself.

With a deep breath, he carefully untangled himself from Felicity’s arms and legs and made his way to bathroom to get ready for the day. He scratched at his stubble, which was now almost a beard, and had to smile. If he let it grow much longer, Felicity would condition his face in his sleep.

Quietly, he walked through the beach house, stopped in front of the living room sliding glass windows and took in the soft pink infused light of the early morning. He watched how the seagulls were slowly waking up far out to sea as they sought currents of warmer air above the surface of the ocean and then dove back to their flock far below. The peacefulness of the morning came from the stillness that surrounded the house, one they were slowly turning into a home. The tide was out and the waves were small, flowing over the rocks and gently lapping against the cliff sides. He could smell the salty sea breeze and under it, the sharp scent of ozone. He had grown to love this time of year with the storms that skirted the rugged coastline and sun that was still warm enough to heat up the house. He wished that they could live out here, far away from the city.

With a sigh, he turned and made his way to the kitchen, his own personal oasis. He started their morning coffee and plugged in the waffle maker. He had a store bought batter but it was a good one, not one full of chemicals and sugar, and brought the maple syrup out to warm up. It was a Canadian one that he knew she would probably leave him for based on her love of all things maple.

He worked quietly and efficiently in the galley kitchen, slicing up the last of the strawberries and getting mugs and plates out of the cupboard. He was hoping that they smell would rouse her and was rewarded with the quick glimpse of blonde tousled hair as she made her way to the bathroom to wake herself up.

“Whatever you have made smells amazing,” she said sleepily as she padded softly into the kitchen to join him.  
“The waffles or the coffee?”  
“Both,” she said with a smile that lit the entire room.  
“So table, couch or bed?” he asked as he started to plate the waffles.  
“Bed! It is still way too early to be awake,” she grumbled and picked up the cutlery and tray with the coffee and left him to finish with the waffles.

Felicity had drawn back the curtains, the gauzy white ones that came with the house, and was watching the same vista he had enjoyed earlier. She had expressed a love of how the way the fairy lights hung so delicately in their folds. The sky was clear, a pale cerulean blue with hints of pink and purple clinging to the eastern edges, the early dawn light had yet to begin to fade. As she stood watching the gentle tide in her pajamas, flannel shorts and one of his old shirts, she was radiant.

“Come on, dig in,” he said softly, setting the tray on the bed.  
“Like you could stop me,” she snorted and crawled across the bed towards his food offering.  
“Don’t hurt me,” he said weakly but then laughed at her expression, a perfect mixture of mock disgust and pure ravenous hunger.

“Oh God, Oliver, this maple syrup…”  
“You’re welcome,” was all he said.

The seagulls were awake and feeding out over the kelp beds that floated half a mile offshore, their calls carrying on the wind, shrill and demanding. They became part of the background noise as the tall beach grass brushed against the side of the house and songbirds called from their nests built deep within the grass covered dunes. The food and coffee kept them occupied and Oliver had to admit, the maple syrup was basically the best thing he had tasted in a long time.

“So what’s up when we get back? Are you ready to get back into the suit?” she asked around a mouthful of waffle and strawberries.  
“I think so. Maybe we could head to the lair before dinner and check things out?”  
“That sounds like a plan,” she paused to take a sip of her coffee and looked closely at him, “Don’t forget - you have help out there. Diggle is more than capable of taking the lead if you don’t want to take it just yet.”  
“I know and I trust John. Let’s just wait and see, ok?”  
“Ok,” she smiled, “Maybe when we get back to Star City, you can tell me why you are so pensive when you are there.”

Oliver just shook his head in wonder, nothing got past her. In lieu of an answer, he cleared their dishes off the bed and back into the kitchen and into the dishwasher. When he got back into the bedroom, Felicity was sitting facing the bedroom’s sliding glass doors, her chin propped up on the bed frame. They had kept the bed in its original position, facing away from the beach but right in front of the glass doors. She hadn’t heard him come back into the room so he was able to study her for a few seconds before she sensed his presence. She looked troubled, sad and her eyes weren’t seeing the scene in front of her. They were unfocused and distant.

“What’s up, Felicity?” he asked softly, slowly joining her on the bed.  
“I was just thinking about Smoak Tech and all the plans I had with Curtis before things went so...sideways,” she said softly.

Oliver reached for her, gently sweeping her hair from her face, she felt the loss of Curtis just as deeply as she felt the loss of Quentin. It wasn’t lost on him how she was staying away from the office a little bit more than she should but he wasn’t going to push her to rejoin it full time. She wasn’t ready and for now, that was okay.

“Oliver, what time is it for real,” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.  
“Please, don’t hit me when I tell you, ok?” he asked in complete seriousness. She nodded so he told her, “It’s 6:30 am.”

Felicity remained silent and just stared at him until he felt strange things happening low in his body that he attributed to actual fear.

“What?” was all she said.  
“We did go to bed at 10pm last night....,” he said defensively, trying to think of some way out of this particular predicament, “I did get you that special maple syrup…”

Finally, she broke and started to laugh. He growled and moved quick like lightning, pinning her to the bed, kissing her to silence the peels of laughter coming out of her.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed, “Let me up!”  
“Nope.”  
“But I ate so much!” she protested.  
“I think we need to work that off,” he growled into her neck.  
“Well, it is early,” she agreed, her voice husky and low.

They made love playfully but with an exquisite tenderness and gentleness that pulled them together into ecstasy. He would remember her soft sighs, quiet moans and the intensity of the orgasm that carried her from peak to peak in the years to come. They imprinted on him the very physical look and feel of love. As they sat in the centre of the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist, her body pressed so tight to his that he could feel her heart beating against his chest, he came in a long hot stream inside her. Her body was a cathedral to him, one he would worship until the end of time.

Hours later, after a short nap and a thorough clean up, he kissed her goodbye and they set out on the road in separate cars. They stopped at different scenic rest stops along the way, breaking up the six hour drive and making it longer but enjoying each other's company was more important.

“So, you gonna finally tell me why you took off to that beach yesterday?” she asked as they stood looking down at the rugged Oregon coast.  
“I was feeling restless, anxious...you had spent the night sleeping as far away from me as possible and I knew it was because of me,” he finally admitted.  
“Oliver…”  
“No, Felicity, this time...it was me feeling so locked inside my own head that I was keeping you away from me when I desperately wanted the opposite.”  
“After Quentin’s funeral, I could feel you spinning out of control and I had no idea how to reach you because I was doing the same thing,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close.  
“He was a very good man,” Oliver said with conviction, “a very good man who wanted to reclaim all that he had lost, no matter what.”  
“But that’s not the only reason you slipped away.”  
“You are relentless,” he chuckled.  
“Come on, Mr. Queen. Tell me.”

Oliver was silent for a moment and then took a deep breath, “When I was sitting up on that rock, I was thinking about the future. Ours, Williams...and what our lives are like now and what could happen...if the unthinkable happens.”  
“That’s...a lot, Oliver. But so long as we are together, you know we can face anything.”  
“I do but if something happens in the future that puts your live in jeopardy…”  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. What else?”  
“My confidence after Dragon died tanked. I knew he had to die but...I felt like I let you down again and then Quentin’s funeral...I needed to isolation and the wildness of that beach to let it all go.”  
“And have you?” she asked, nuzzling him closer.  
“When you walked onto the beach, with your backpack and tarp,” he said with a smile, “I forgot why I was there in the first place. The sadness of all of the loss we have suffered is still there but it wasn’t pulling me down. I wasn’t drowning anymore because of you,” he murmured as he kissed the top of her head.

Felicity looked up at him, searched his eyes and then she smiled, “I am so glad.”

There was an ache in Oliver’s chest. Not one of hurt or grief, but one caused by the sheer weight of the love he felt for her. He could never adequately put into words just how much he loved her. He always used physical demonstrations like the courtyard above the lair, the Havenrock Memorial Park and all the times he cooked for her. All of those were him showing her and the world that he loved her beyond the ability to describe.

“Should we go?” she asked softly.  
“We should,” he agreed but neither of them moved.

Felicity’s lips parted a fraction of an inch and a flush rose up her neck. His heart beat just a fraction faster as her eyes darkened in the bright sunlight. If they were anywhere else, he would have been removing her top, searching for her soft skin. Instead, he kissed her, claiming her lips, tongue and breath in a deep, lover’s kiss.

“Oliver,” she panted softly, “we really should go.”  
“I am so glad we live in the same condo.”  
“It helps that we are married.”  
“Oh yeah,” he said with wink.  
“I’ll stop and pick up something for dinner. Italian or French?” she was laughing and shaking her head at him.  
“Italian from Mario’s,” he said as he hugged her.

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up to kiss him, “See you at home, love.”

Oliver watched her pull out of the scenic turn off and turned to look out over the ocean. In this particular part of the country, about two hours outside of Star City, it was like there was a sudden surge of violent wildness. The cliffs were carved in sharp relief, steep and deadly, and the shore below was covered in jagged rocks. The waves were unrelenting, constantly heaving and crashing on what passed for a beach.

Occasionally surfers braved the waves here but not often and not without injury. As a teen, he and Tommy had cut school and escaped the city to watch older boys try and surf to shore. They laid bets and explored the many paths that lead to the cliff’s edges, waiting until the sun was just touching the horizon before making their way home. It made him nostalgic for a moment but a text from Felicity brought him back to the present. She had made the order for dinner and would see him at home. With one final look at the roiling sea below, he got in his car and began the drive home.

The closer he got to the city, he began to feel the stirrings of something approaching dread. There was something coming. He could feel it in his bones. After all his years in a state of constant survival, he had honed his instincts to be aware of impending danger and they were screaming at him now.

As he entered the city limits, he drove past the docks, past the remains of the Glades and the warehouse that was destroyed last year. The city was trying to return to normal but there was always something that came up, threatening to derail the peace the city sought so hard to find and hold as normal. He hoped he was wrong, but he sensed the calm they were now experiencing was about to come to an end.

As he crossed over the Star City bridge, he caught sight of a boat sitting in the centre of the harbour. It was bobbing on the waves, not moving under its own power but instead it was being moved by the water itself. It was odd but the harbour patrol would deal with the boat. It wasn’t unusual for a boat to come loose from its mooring and drift on the tide. There were several weekend yachters in the city who sometimes failed to secure their sailboats and mini yachts to their docks.

As he pulled into the city, the boat faded from his mind and the night coming up replaced it instead. He hoped Dig, Thea and Roy had had an easy few days and that the city had remained calm. But his mind drifted and he found his thoughts were only about Felicity up in their condo, the kiss from the scenic outlook and the taste of her lips. He wasn’t hungry for dinner as he entered the elevator and pressed the button to their floor.


	3. Interlude Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short introduction to the main character of the mystery about to envelop Oliver and Felicity. It emerges from the vastness of the ocean and stops at the end of a dock. 
> 
> Once again, Oliver will find himself face to face with a ghost from the past.

**_Interlude Part One_ **

_The rain fell on Star City, leaving it soaked, cold and featureless under a seeping, relentless fog that blanketed every surface large or small. It reached, like spreading fingers, in from the harbour, through the streets, merging and flowing like water all around the city’s streets. Sound traveled differently on nights like this. It echoed and bounced, ricocheted off of the light that filtered down to the concrete pathways below. Nothing sounded right or moved right in the city but out on the water, nothing could be heard._

_It was in this deep, dark mist that the boat silently drifted in on the advancing tide. It moved over the oily, oozing water in fits and starts. This part of the harbour was polluted, choked with debris and chemicals and like spoiled meat when the wind blew from the south. The boat, a cabin cruiser, most likely dumped in a tributary or stream that fed into the bay, bobbed and rocked on the waves, listing dangerously to its port side._

_Somewhere, under the viscous surface of the water, the boat had encountered an obstacle and it had left a wound in the hull. The name painted on the side was slowly disappearing as the boat rolled unbalanced on the wake of a passing tanker. The business of the city was taking place all around it, good moving in and out of the working harbour around the clock. It was perilously close to an active shipping lane, laying in wait in the darkness, obscured from view by the thick fog._

_There were no lights left on in the topside cabin. There were no masts to announce its presence. It was silent and dark. There was no evidence of the former crew, no hint as to where it came from. It slipped in and out of view, partially submerged, until it ran into the central pile cap under the Star City bridge. It stayed there, impaled on an exposed and rusted piece of rebar that had escaped its concrete encasement, as large tankers sailed past, their horns echoing off the fog._

_It remained there until the incoming tide dislodged it, setting it free to drift back into the current, twirling gently on its side as it found a new way to balance on the surface of the water. As it anchored itself to the tidal current, slowly advancing on the sleeping city, the boat revealed its unseen passenger. The scent of death, a cloying, sickening stench emerged from deep within the bowels of its hull, and seeped out, seeking the cement arteries that crisscrossed the city._

_The cloak of night pulled back and revealed the boat, nestled up against the end of a long dock that lead to the city’s fish market. Soon the larger boats, loaded with the previous day’s catch would be pulling in, looking to relieve themselves of their cargo. They would be stopped by a boat no bigger than a school bus as it bobbed lazily in the rising water. The ocean sometimes held her secrets close and dear, but not this time. The depths of the ocean wanted nothing to do with what lay entombed within its cargo hold. The coming sun would burn away the fog and reveal the ocean’s dangerous gift._

_In the slanting rays of the early morning sun, the name of the boat finally came into view. The Gambit knocked against the dock, leaving fiberglass splinters embedded in its wet and decaying planks. The Harbour Master, now alerted to its presence, hesitantly reached for his phone and dialed the number to City Hall._


	4. The Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up where the last one left off and jump starts the mystery at the heart of the story. 
> 
> No hints! But once again, I explore the relationship between Oliver and Felicity, the easy way they connect and the hot sexiness that they generate when they are alone.
> 
> Of course, things are about to change...violently and with very real human cost. 
> 
> ***(Just a warning: there is some description of violence in this chapter that may be disturbing to some)***

**Chapter Two: The Gambit**

 

_ She stepped lightly _

_ On the path he had left _

_ That lead to his heart. _

 

I

Felicity walked through the quiet condo, absentmindedly running her hands over the smooth surfaces in the kitchen and the rough, brick walls of the hallway. She was tired after the drive and hoping she could lie down for a few minutes before Oliver got home. Their dinner was in the warming drawers waiting for them and they had a few hours to kill before heading to the lair.

With Diggle, Roy and Thea at the helm, Oliver was surprisingly relaxed and she hoped they could extend that gentle, easy feeling just a bit longer. Kicking off her shoes and stripping down to her underwear, she climbed onto their bed, pulled the afghan they kept in their bedroom over her and laid back with a deep, content sigh. She sought out a few minutes of empty calm in the hopes of regenerating her energy.

She heard her voice being called and she swam out of the inky depths of sleep towards it. Felicity knew Oliver’s voice and would follow it into the deepest abyss without question. There was something about driving that exhausted her though and sleeping was something she wanted to do now because she had a gut feeling sleep would be an endangered species in the days to come.

“Felicity,” he called in a gentle tone almost like a song, “come on, hon, time to get up.”  
“What time is it?” she yawned and stretched, feeling the way her muscles had relaxed as she slept.  
“A little after five,” he said softly, ”Can I join you?”

In lieu of an answer, Felicity opened her arms to him and smiled. Kicking off his shoes, Oliver slipped under the covers and curled his body around hers. It was her personal heaven to be here with him. She felt safe and complete when he wrapped his arms around her and shielded her from the world around them. The fog had rolled in, briny and deep, making the night arrive early.

“Are we meeting John at the bunker?” she asked, pulling herself closer to him.  
“Actually, on the way in I spoke with him and gave him the night off. Same with Roy and Thea.”  
“So it’ll just be us?” she asked dubiously.  
“Just for tonight and maybe tomorrow.”  
“Oliver…”  
“I know, I know,” he chuckled, “but things are quiet and why not? They have earned it.”  
“I sometimes wonder if Roy and Thea might enjoy some time away. Same with John and Lyla. Maybe let them in on that cabin outside the city?” she wondered aloud.  
“The one with the loft?”  
“That very one.”  
“Find them another one,” he said with a shake of his head.  
“So possessive,” she teased.

Oliver went silent and his body tensed just enough for her to prepare herself for when he rolled over her, pressing his entire weight on her body. She let out a strangled laugh and tried to push him off her. He would only do this when she teased him about his possessive streak. He was intent on keeping the other cabin they had found just outside of the city to themselves.

“Oliver! I can’t breathe!” she half laughed, half choked.  
“You can talk, you can breathe,” he retorted in a very matter of fact voice but relented and rolled off of her.  
“Am I still three dimensional?” she asked.  
“Where it counts,” he chuckled and leaned down to give her a quick kiss.  
“I can’t feel my arms,” she complained weakly.  
“Felicity, you are a terrible liar. Now come here,” he said, opening his arms.

Grumbling about how solid he had become over the last couple of months, Felicity turned towards him and sighed. She could stay there, warm and safe, forever. She loved the stillness and quiet that they could both take up space in together without feeling the need to fill it with conversation. Her mind might race at times, but this was where she was happiest, no matter the time of day.

“I guess we should get going or at least go eat some dinner,” Oliver murmured drowsily.  
“Dinner will stay warm for a while. We can stay here.”  
“Mmmhmmm,” was all she heard before sleep claimed her again.

She was dreaming of a meadow full of wildflowers. She was walking towards the sun, when she heard a voice speaking quietly somewhere just out of sight. She recognized the voice, the deep timbre and rumble of it as it flowed over the sundrenched landscape, so she followed where and who it was leading her to. Felicity knew she would find Oliver at the end of her journey. His voice was the only one she would follow.

Slowly, Felicity pushed herself back up to wakefulness. She was hearing Oliver but knew he wasn’t calling to her in her dream. He was up and talking on his phone. Based on his tone, something was wrong.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tight and full uncertainty, “And it is floating where?”

Sitting up, Felicity searched the room, looking for her husband. He was sitting, tense and still, on the chaise lounge, his attention fixed on something unseen outside the window. Reaching for her leggings and sweater, left crumpled at the end of the bed, Felicity quietly got dressed and sat, wrapped in the blanket, waiting for Oliver to finish his conversation.

“No...no, leave it where it is. We need to figure out how it got there. I trust you can calculate the tides?” Oliver asked, his shoulders relaxed just a little as the conversation wrapped up, “Sounds good. Let me know when the Dive, Search and Rescue team is ready to go. Got it. Ok, bye.”

Oliver hung up his phone and sat in silence, staring at his hands.

“Oliver?” she called quietly to him, “What is it?”

When he looked up, her heart started to beat faster in her chest out of surge of fear. His eyes were glassy and blank. Something was very wrong. Acting on instinct, Felicity got off the bed and went to sit next to him. Carefully, she took his phone and set it on the window sill, then she took his hands in hers.

“Oliver, look at me,” she encouraged softly, “What is it?”  
“That was the Harbour Master,” his voice was hollow and soft, “There is a boat floating, half submerged in the bay.”  
“Ok,” she said carefully, “Why are you dissociating?”

Felicity decided to be direct. Oliver was slowly slipping into a catatonic state. If he disconnected, it would take days and days of work to reach him. She stroked the inside of his arms, making sure her nails made contact with the delicate skin that held no scars or marks of violence. His eyes focused on hers, chasing the vacant stare away.

“Tell me about the boat, Oliver.”  
“I…,” he paused to collect himself, “It’s the Gambit.”

Felicity felt the room shift sideways. She felt the name like a punch in the gut. It was impossible. It simply couldn’t be. The boat had sunk years ago, in the cold, deep North China Sea. There was no way this could be the same Gambit that had forever altered the course of Oliver’s life. She reached for his hands and held them tight out of a need to comfort and be comforted.

“Oliver, it can’t be the same one. It’s...impossible.”  
“Maybe,” he answered, “But it is there.”  
“What happens now?” she slipped her hands into his and let him find his way back to the present through her.  
“I need to change, have some dinner and get to the harbour.”  
“Do you want me to come with you? Or do you want me to get to the bunker?”  
“Bunker,” he answered quickly, “I’ll call with as much information as I can get from the Harbour Master and the boat itself.”  
“Ok, she said with an emphatic nod, “let’s get moving.”

Felicity got up off the chaise lounge and made her way to her closet to try and find some warm clothes for the night ahead. Knowing Oliver, he would want to go out on patrol or work out for hours to burn off the energy he was holding onto. The Gambit, or the version of gambit that was out in the harbour was going to consume him.

“Felicity?” he called softly.  
“Hmmm?”  
“Thank you.”  
“For what?” she asked, turning around with a hoodie half pulled over her head.  
“For pulling me back to myself,” he said as he crossed the room to help her get her untangle her glasses from the hoodie’s drawstring.  
“You were disappearing, Oliver, I could tell by your eyes. I know what that means for you and there is no way I would let you suffer like that,” she said as she slipped her glasses back on and looked up at Oliver.

He was smiling down at her but his eyes were haunted. She could see the turmoil and uncertainty swirling through them. His fear was a living thing that lurked deep in his mind. She had seen it surface only a handful of times and it broke her heart. Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her chin on his chest and studied his expression.

“I’m ok, Felicity,” he said softly as he smoothed her hair off her face, “I promise.”  
“Ok, but the first sign of trouble…”  
“I’ll come home.”  
“Thank you, Oliver,” she smiled and waited for his soft kiss.  
“”Felicity?” he hummed low in his throat.  
“Hmmm?” she was lost in the way his body felt pressed against her.  
“I am starving.”

Laughing, Felicity took him by the hand and lead him into the kitchen and to their waiting dinner. She was glad she asked for the sauce on the side otherwise they would have a soggy mess instead of the an actual edible food.

They ate quickly and changed into the right kind of clothes for the evening ahead. Oliver was looking at one of his suits, when Felicity handed him a Henley, his brown leather jacket and dark charcoal pants and pointed to his boots she knew he thought he had hidden from her.

“If you are going down to the shore, you need to wear those old boots. Then throw them away,” she instructed.  
“But I just broke them in!” he protested.  
“Oliver, they are disgusting. The last time you wore them, you were in a sewer,” she said as she slipped on her runners and left the bedroom.

She could hear him grumbling in the bedroom and laughed quietly to herself. He was usually so fastidious with his belongings but when it came to shoes and socks, he was surprisingly lax. It was time for new ones but he was absolutely resistant to buying new shoes for casual use. If anything else, she was glad to have taken his mind off of the boat waiting for him.

“Ready?” he asked as he headed to the door.  
“You dropping me off at the office?” she asked as she did up her jacket.  
“Street level ok?”  
“Yup, let’s get a move on, Queen,” she said as she sailed past him. She didn’t have to look to know he turned his eyes to the heavens and shook his head.

In five very short minutes, Oliver dropped her off in front of the office she was now using for Smoak Technologies. She watched him drive away and let out the deep breath she felt like she had been holding in for the last hour. The appearance of a boat with that name in Star City Harbour was no accident.

Hurrying down to the bunker, Felicity made a fresh pot of coffee and fired up her system. When Oliver called in, she wanted to be ready. In the meantime, she called up tidal charts, navigational maps, weather and atmospheric charts and every nautical source she could think of. Someone out there knew Oliver’s biggest source of guilt and she would be damned if they were going to exploit it.

“Felicity? Are you there?” Oliver’s low, quiet voice came in over softly over her comms.  
“Here,” she answered quickly.  
“It’s not the Gambit. Not my Gambit,” he said, his voice sounding strained, “but it is bad. I’m going to send you everything the Harbour Master has given me. Can you copy it and send it to SCPD from the Mayor’s email?”  
“This is me, Oliver, of course I can.”  
“Ok,” he chuckled, “I’ll be with you in...five.”

Felicity waited for the encrypted files to come in and then set to work getting it decrypted. In a rush of rapidly opening files, images, schematics and files. As soon as they were done downloading, she quickly sent it to the detective squad at SCPD.

She poured a fresh cup of coffee and studied what she was seeing. She was curious to see what Oliver meant when he said it was bad. So far she was only seeing images of the boat. Stark black and white photographs taken under bright lights and flashes. She saw the name on the side, the size of the boat itself and different angles of the damage that sunk it.

It was a smaller cabin cruiser than the original Gambit, much smaller, but the lettering was identical. This was no mistake. Someone was sending a message and it was meant specifically for Oliver. She clicked on a new folder of photographs and froze, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth.

They were in blazing colour and nothing in them made sense to her eyes. The water was the wrong colour, there was hunks of meat floating on the surface of one picture and shoes in another. Her eyes focused on one picture that she could not figure out, so she selected it and zoomed in. What she saw caused her entire body to break out in a cold sweat.

She saw a face but it wasn’t attached to anything. It was floating in a stew of body parts, blood and what looked like miles and miles of intestines. She felt bile rising up in her throat and reached blindly for the mouse to click out of the folder. A blind panic rose up in her when she couldn’t find it but a strong hand fell on her shoulder and the screen mercifully went black.

“Felicity, hey,” Oliver’s calm voice penetrated the fog around her, “It’s gone, the folder is closed. Take a deep breath.”  
“Oliver…,” she gasped, “How many?”  
“We don’t know yet,” he said gently, taking her by the hand and leading her away from her computer station and down to the couches by the bank of tvs, “but the coroner will have an idea by tomorrow afternoon.”  
“Wait,” she said, stopping him with a tug on his hand, “how are YOU?”

He stopped and she watched as he rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen them up, before answering her, “I wasn’t sure what it was I was going to see. The name on the side of that boat...it threw me, Felicity.”  
“I know, love,” she said softly, stepping around him so she could see his face, “I was worried.”

Oliver smiled at her and wrapped her in a hug. They stood that way for a few minutes, quietly drawing strength from each other. Felicity could feel him slowly relax in her arms but she was still concerned. The boat bearing the name of his family’s old yacht had carried a cargo of death. She felt queasy thinking about it.

As though reading her mind, Oliver said, “Are you ok? Those pictures were...awful. I am so sorry I didn’t warn you.”  
“Oliver, we have to find out who those people were and what happened to them.”  
“We will. Let’s just take a minute and then I’ll show you a few things I spotted. Ok?” he asked as he rubbed her back.  
“Ok. Are you going to hit the streets?”  
“I might. If you can find what I hope you’ll find, I will.”  
“Well, let’s sit for a minute. I need to get those images out of my head.”

He gave her a quick kiss and together they headed to the couch and sat down. Felicity was grateful to just sit with him in the quiet of the bunker. She listened to the computer servers whirl as the fans came on to keep their processors cool. It was a sound she loved as a child, it rooted her to her body and time and space, but she loved it still. It was comforting and natural to her.

“What does the Harbour Master think?” she asked as Oliver welcomed her next to him.  
“He was confused. The boat drifted in on the tide completely unseen,” his voice trailed off as he retreated inwards, something she couldn’t let him do.  
“Oliver,” she said, gently rubbing his free hand, “what else?”  
“He looked like he recognized something in the boat, something in the cargo hold.”  
“In all that death?” she asked, surprised and horrified all at once.  
“When you’re ready, I’ll show you.”

They fell silent, but both of them were beginning to grow more and more tense the longer they sat on the couch. He was playing with strands of her hair, wrapping them around his fingers over and over. It was what he did to calm himself and it helped in relaxing her. She looked up at him and was caught him unawares.

He was looking at her computer station without actually seeing it. When his eyes lost focus, they deepened in colour, turning a brilliant cobalt blue. He was a rugged, handsome man, made of angles and hard corners, but so beautiful to her eyes. She felt a fluttering in her stomach and moved to get up. There was always later for what her body was waking up to next to him but right now, the Gambit and Oliver needed her attention.

“Come on,” she said, getting up and pulling him with her, “Let’s get to work.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”

Hand in hand, they made their way to her station and she opened up images of the boat and said, “Ok, show me what it is you spotted.”  
“Open the picture of the boat marked SCPD E#4 and then zoom in to the upper right corner,” he directed.

Clicking it open, Felicity zoomed in as asked and looked at Oliver, wondering what it was she needs to be looking at.

“What am I looking at? Or for?” she asked.  
“There is a name underneath the Gambit, you can just barely see it.”

Looking back at the picture, Felicity squinted. She could see a faint outline but she needed to make it brighter, enhance the edges and see if she could tease the letters out. She opened up a photo editing program and began to take the noise in the photo out. Slowly, the outline grew clearer and more distinct.

“Oliver,” she said softly, “I think...I think it says ‘The Queen’s Undertaking’.”  
“That is a bit direct,” he muttered.

Felicity immediately began her search for who could had last owned the boat. The information wasn’t going to be found on Google, so she did what she did best and hacked into the US Ships Registry and began a search of all current and archival records that might match the boat. The registration number for it had been stripped off the hull and nothing was found in the boat itself.

The name itself wasn’t registered, which wasn’t a surprise given the state of the boat as they found it in the water, but it had to be somewhere and she was going to find it. What was more concerning, beyond the way the boat arrived into the harbour, was the amount of bodies in various stages of decay and dismemberment in the cargo hold.

She had never seen anything like it in her life. Not even in the worst slasher flicks she had been forced to go see with her friends in college. What haunted her was the face that was staring out of the soupy mess of body parts and blood. They needed to figure this one out before anyone else was harmed or killed.

She glanced at Oliver and saw the tension in his body and face. While she couldn’t make the system work faster, she could ease some of his unease. A quick read of the file folders took her to one that detailed tides and the weather last night both on land and over the ocean. If anything would distract or bore him, it was this particular file.

“So how about we look at this?” she suggested, “It should let us know roughly where the boat came from and where we can backtrack to if we are going to find out who did this.”  
“Weather and tides?” he asked.  
“I know it isn’t action and fighting,” she said, turning towards him, “but it is what we need.”  
“Why do I have the feeling you are trying to distract me?” he mused with a small wink.  
“You know me so well,” she sighed and gently ran her hand up his arm, feeling the way his muscles bunched and jumped under her palm.  
“The minute we find something…”  
“I know, you are going to head out. So why not go get ready now, so that when something comes in, you can go?” she suggested wisely.

Oliver smiled, leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss, then was off to get into his suit. She wasn’t happy that he was going out alone but at least she knew it was just a recon mission and nothing more. He would promise her that he would be careful but she knew him when he became focused in the field, he would go and do what he needed to do and she trusted him to keep himself safe.

She was looking at a breakdown of possible places of origins for the boat when Oliver came out of his changing room. Over the years, she had grown used to him in his ever evolving suits but something about the way he was moving in this newest one made that flutter in her stomach catch fire. Felicity smiled to herself and hoped he wouldn’t be out for hours.

“Figure anything out yet?” he called from his weapons case.  
“Yup! I think I know where you can start,” she called back.  
“Talk me in?” he asked softly from behind her, causing her to jump. He was silent as a cat when he wanted to be and she knew how he enjoyed surprising her like this.

“Oliver!” she yelped, “I have asked you not to do that!”  
“I couldn’t help myself,” he chuckled softly, kissing her on the top of the head, “Now tell me where I need to go.”

Squinting her eyes at him, she sighed and pulled up the map she was studying. If she was right, the boat had entered the harbour at 11pm from the south on the tide as it began to come in. It had a thin coating of algae so she suspected that it had actually entered the water from one of the channels to the south of the city. She had a hunch as to exactly where to send Oliver.

“You need to get to the peninsula, down to the government dock, and then to this outbuilding here,” she said tapping the computer screen with her finger, pointing to an area on the satellite map she had opened, “I think that is the best location to find anything on the boat.”  
“Why do you think that?” he asked as he put on his gloves in order to take his Ducati out.  
“The tide and these marks here,” she indicated algae lines on the hull in the picture she had pulled up on one monitor, “the boat was in the water no earlier than 9pm and no later than 9:45pm. That is the only way it could drift to the harbour in the state it is in.”

Oliver stood and studied the map, looking for his way into the secluded area. It would be tough, but he could see a service road partially hidden by a canopy of Arbutus trees. Felicity could be right, that the building was ground zero. It would take about an hour to get out to it and the hour was getting late.

“You better take off now,” she commented, stretching out the kinks in her back, “It is almost 11 pm and it is going to take hours.”  
“I’ll keep the comms on but you can do this from home,” he said softly.  
“I’ll head upstairs in a bit. I want to dig into who may or may not own the boat,” she said quietly, turning her attention to the ships registry, “I am going to run a search program with some set parameters. See what turns up.”  
“Good luck,” he said, kissing her cheek and heading out to the garage.

She fell into a groove. Nothing could distract her now, she was focused and tuned in completely. Oliver was on the road and wouldn’t need her until he got close to the boat launch. She wasn’t sure what they would find, but she had no doubt there was a clue or two left behind.

Checking the ships registry, she began to get frustrated. There had to be something in it that would point them towards the boat’s owner. She was beginning to suspect that she would need to look internationally for the owner, which made her even more curious as to who was behind this.

“Overwatch!” Oliver’s voice burst into her ear through a wall of static, “I am about 20 minutes out.”  
“How did you get there so fast?” she asked.  
“No traffic and I know a way in that doesn’t involve the highway.”  
“OK, Green Arrow, I’ll be standing by,” she said warmly.

The comm link when silent and she was left alone to her thoughts, the information and a file folder full of carnage that they would eventually have to look through. It always amazed her how violent and obscene people could be to one another. If that cargo hold was any indication, there was a monster out there and they had Oliver clearly in their sights.

“Overwatch,” Oliver growled low into his comm link, “I’m here. The site is deserted.”  
“What do you mean?” she asked as she shifted to a new screen and with a few simple key strokes, she hacked into the CIA system.  
“The lights are on, but noone is home,” he said softly.  
“Let me see what I can find,” she said.

She studied the feed on bursts of fast forward in order to see the last three hours and saw what she needed.

“Green Arrow, head to the outbuilding located at the end of the road on the left,” she said in a strangled voice.  
“Overwatch, what is it?” he growled in his low voice.  
“Just get in there and look.”

She sat back and watched the feed at normal speed. Someone drove into the site, parked right by the door to the outbuilding and slipped in without getting caught on camera. Within a few minutes, the Gambit drifted out and into the tidal pull of the powerful ocean. It drifted and then vanished out of the frame.

Taking as many screenshots as she could, Felicity checked the time to see how long she had been in the CIA’s system. She had maybe one minute more to remain in it before things got tricky. Zooming into the frame, she took as many shots of the car as she could, in addition to the figure of the person who entered and exited so quickly, and then left through the backdoor she had created herself.

She could have asked ARGUS but that would have revealed why she was asking and for now, she needed that to remain a tightly guarded secret. The car was an expensive one with expensive tech blocking the camera from reading its license plate. The person who got out of the car was using something that distorted his or her face.

“Overwatch, is your camera on?” his voice was strained over the comms.  
“Yes it is,” she answered, concerned and but curious, “What is it you need me to see?”  
“This,” he said and angled his body towards a series of clipboards.  
“Are those logs of boat arrivals? Get in closer,” she requested, feeling a surge of adrenaline.

Oliver walked closer and she quickly scanned the pages she could see. They were logs with flag numbers and names. This could be it, it could lead to the owner of the vessel and eventually who put the boat in the water.

“Green Arrow, I need you to bring me that clipboard home,” she said.  
“On it, Overwatch,” he said in his serious voice but she could hear his smile behind it.

While Oliver finished his recon, she turned her attention to both the Ships Registry and the satellite images she managed to download before escaping the CIA system. Her gut was telling her to look closer at the satellite pictures. The answer was in front of her, she knew it.

For some reason, she turned to the registry and put in one name and sat in silence when it came up with a hit. She was stunned at the name that was in front of her: Moira Queen. At some point she had her own boat that no one in her family knew about.

Looking at the clock, she timed how long she had to prepare herself to tell Oliver that before she was brutally killed by Slade Wilson, his mother had bought a boat that someone was using now to torment him. That person was in for a world of hurt once Oliver found them. Hitting print, she powered down her stations for the time being. She needed those boat logs. They were the missing piece, she was sure of it.

Getting up, she stretched the stiffness out of her back and went to the printer to grab the registry info and headed to the couch. She really wanted to go upstairs to the garden. Thinking about it for a minute, she decided that she was going to do it. Grabbing her tablet and phone, she headed to the elevator.

It was cold in the office so she grabbed a blanket from the couch and headed outside. She turned on the heater and the lights and curled up on the couch. It was her favourite place to work if she were honest. The lights were perfect and even now in the cool fall air, the heater they invested in warmed the small courtyard.

Moira Queen owned the boat in the harbour. How was she going to tell Oliver? She leaned back and closed her eyes. There had to be a reason for it but what? Did she use it for legal reasons? Illegal reasons? Was it something she used to try and find Robert? Or Oliver? Or was it something to do with the Undertaking?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be easy to discover the reason behind all of this, but she was determined to do it. She just wanted Oliver to get back to the bunker so they could go over all the evidence and information they had uncovered. Until then, she was going to study the images from the satellite and enjoy the warm patio and clear sky above her.

After a few minutes, her eyes started to close. It was warm and cozy under the blanket and sometimes it was easier to just give in and sleep. Curling up, she got comfortable and let herself drift. The grey space between being awake and wandering her inner world of dreams occasionally revealed things she had failed to recognize.

She was stumbling through a field of body parts and blood when she heard her name being called in a soft, deep voice. A smile crossed her face and she leapt up to wakefulness, knowing it was Oliver calling to her. No one else could wake her as easily as he did.

“Hey,” he said softly as she opened her eyes.  
“Hey, yourself,” she smiled.  
“Sit up,” he encouraged.  
“I am so warm and cozy,” she complained.  
“Come on,” he laughed.

Reluctantly, she sat up and waited for him to sit down next to her. Oliver had a package in his hands which snapped her wide awake. She was eager to see the boat logs but he put them on the table next to the table and sat back in order to relax in front of the fake fire. They were very used to being able to relax together like this and she knew that now those days and nights were coming to an end.

“What did you find, Oliver? And when did you get here?” she asked quietly as she saw he was in jeans and a deep blue Henley.  
“I pulled in half an hour ago and I found a name. One that makes no sense,” he answered, his voice betraying how his attention was now drifting.  
“I did, too,” she said, her curiosity growing.  
“You first,” he said with a nudge.

Felicity sat up and turned to look at him. She studied his face, taking in the weariness in his eyes and the subtle slump of his shoulders and gentle way he was holding her hand. He had found something that had not only unsettled him but had brought a profound sadness into his mind and heart.

“Oliver,” she said softly, “what is it? What did you see?”

Oliver remained silent for a few moments, staring at the opposite wall and the thick rhododendron bush that had taken root in the centre of the small plot they had created in front of the windows. It was still in full bloom with thick fuchsia flowers and thriving. He blinked, refocused and looked at her, his eyes full of sadness.

“My mother’s name.”  
“Oliver,” she said, concern and a fearful anxiousness filling her voice, “I found her name on the ship’s registry.”

His attention snapped to her, his eyes laser focused and tension immediately filled the space between them. She could feel the heat in his body beginning to increase. Where his mother was concerned, Oliver held guilt like a red hot coal in the centre of his soul. He had managed to work through it but at times it would flare to life and threaten to consume him, body and soul.

“Whoever is doing this is going to be very unhappy to hear from me,” Oliver growled, the fire in his eyes blazed bright and hot.  
“Then let’s get going and figure out who that person is,” she suggested firmly, getting up and turning off the heater.  
“Ok,” he murmured, his eyes traveling up her body, igniting something inside her that she struggled to contain.  
“Come on, husband,” she said in her best Nyssa Al Ghul voice, “Let us return to the technology room and discover who is vexing us.”  
“Never pretend to be her ever again,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

Felicity laughed as she folded the blanket and left the courtyard. She knew her husband, for all the layers of complicated guilt, regret, joy and love that he was wrapped in, she knew how to break through and make him laugh, the sound of which had become one of her favourite sounds over the last six years.

“Hold the elevator!” he called as he closed the courtyard door, “We should come back up here later.”  
“But it is getting late,” she said, checking the time on her tablet, “why don’t we just go home?”  
“We could,” he said, almost indifferent to her resistance, “but the night is warm and it’s nice to relax in the quiet of the garden. Our garden.”  
“Let’s see what we find first,” she said, her attention focused on the package of papers in Oliver’s hand, “There won’t be anything on them of use but I think we need to fingerprint those puppies.”  
“I had a feeling you’d suggest that,” he sighed.  
“Well, it’s not as if we have anyone on the SCPD to ask,” she mumbled.  
“Ouch,” he said with a chuckle.

Felicity wrapped one arm around him and laughed. They had burned through a lot of goodwill during the Diaz siege. Now that he was dead, they were slowly rebuilding the trust of the department but it would take time.

“I have some bad news,” Oliver said slowly, pulling her closer to him as they walked out of the elevator and into the lair, “I forgot about a fundraiser I am still committed to going to.”  
“Nooooooo,” she groaned, “I thought we were done with those!”  
“We technically are as this one is the last one. Ever.”  
“Promise?”  
“Promise,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Felicity sighed and went to her science station while Oliver went to his weapons station. Finding fingerprints wouldn’t be hard but it would take time. Plus she wanted to run a few tests on the chemical composition of the paper itself, in case it was different than the others. Every small thing she could think of she tested the paper for. After an hour, she had found four fingerprints and a lot of smudges but nothing conclusive.

“Oliver,” she called, defeated and tired, “I haven’t found anything but this is definitely not her signature.”  
“How...wait...when did you ever see her signature?” he asked, thoroughly confused.  
“Oliver, I’ve seen it many times,” she said joining him at his weapons station.  
“So even after all that we have nothing,” he said, his voice thick with frustration.  
“We’ll have more when the bodies are...identified,” she said quietly.

Oliver sat back and looked at her. His face carried a controlled neutral expression but she could read his body. The use of his mother had unsettled him and the violence visited upon the victims had horrified him. Whenever he talked about Moira, he would struggle to contain the sadness he had carried with him for the last four years. She hadn’t been a fan of his mother, she had been a manipulative, dangerous woman but she had been someone Oliver had loved despite all the pain she had brought into his life.

“The identification of...of all of that is going to take a long time. Hopefully, once the boat is out of the water and processed, something might pop up. I’ll start with the Harbour Master tomorrow.”  
“So what now? Should we go through the ships registry again?” she asked.  
“We could but I am betting you are running a trace of some kind and have tagged the Harbour Master’s bank and phones with something Smoak-magical,” he said with a small smile.  
“Oliver, you know I am doing exactly that,” she said with a trace of pride in her voice.

He chuckled at her attempt at keeping her ego in check and leaned over to give her a quick kiss. His lips were warm and the flutter in her stomach was a direct reaction to the way he was looking at her. Felicity knew that look. Oliver’s eyes were dark and his cheeks lightly flushed. He was looking at her with a growing hunger that was fueled by lust and only lust but she felt his hesitancy.

“I’m tired, hun,” she said, giving him an out.  
“Let’s go home,” he said quietly, relief flitting briefly across his face.  
“I want to lay on the couch and not move for a decade,” she sighed wearily.  
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his, “let’s go and do just that.”

Felicity felt the stress of the day slowly lift the further they got from the lair. She was tired from searching through all the amassed data and trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. Thankfully, Oliver had parked the car in the garage and they were able to leave quietly and quickly. The drive to their condo was a short one but it was long enough to let her body relax into the warm seats and doze beside Oliver.

He nudged her gently after parking in the underground lot, teasing her that he could carry her if she was too tired to walk. Grunting at him, she got out of the car and made her way to the elevator, but was glad when he offered his arm. Her eyes felt gritty and every step felt like she was wading through quicksand.

“Tell me we can leave the lights off and just relax?” she asked, angling her head up so she could see him.  
“We can leave the lights off and just relax,” he said, looking down at her, “I can see the way your mind is still whirling a mile a minute.”  
“We’ll figure it out. I promise, Oliver,” she said as they entered their home.  
“I know. We always do,” he said softly.

Felicity pulled him into a deep, soulful kiss. She loved Oliver in a way that felt endless, chaotic and always so perfectly them. They were both tired and still in the gentle afterglow of the weekend spent mostly naked and in bed. She felt a tiny flutter of longing and began making plans in her head for their return to their private cabin. Klamath belonged to only them.

Sinking to the couch, they laid, bodies entwined and connected, warm under the blanket that Oliver had pulled over them. They had landed just right and were able to see the small patch of star filled sky between the buildings across the street from them. Felicity was drifting into a happy doze when she felt the way Oliver was playing with her hair.

When he was stressed, or anxious, he would twirl strands of it around his fingers and then let them go. He would do this over and over until she fell asleep or asked him to talk to her. This time she knew what was troubling him and it was affecting her as well. There was nothing they could do until all the work at the coroner’s office was complete and a solid idea could be made on the boat, but she started thinking of how to strip the coding off of the satellite feed in order to check the license plate.

“I can literally feel you thinking,” he said softly.  
“Sorry,” she said bashfully, kissing his chest, “I thought I was staying relaxed.”  
“When your mind kicks it up a gear or two, your body starts to vibrate and hum.”  
“Well, I can tell that you are back thinking about what we discovered by how you are playing with my hair,” she gently teased.  
“It relaxes me, lets me focus,” he said softly.

They fell silent, each lost to their own thoughts that circled the same conundrum: why was someone using Moira Queen to take aim at Oliver?

“We should head to bed before we get too comfortable,” she suggested regretfully.  
“We need to put a bed in here,” he said. There was a hint of seriousness in his voice that she almost missed.  
“And have William or Raisa wander in while we are naked and otherwise engaged?” she laughed.  
“Can you imagine the look on Raisa’s face?” Oliver asked and then, after a moment, burst out laughing himself.

It was cathartic to laugh at the idea of a bed in the living room. They had made love more than once in the living room but it was almost always fast and hard, something they did to burn off stress and tension at the end of the night. Now, as they slowly made their way to their room, she had to smile at the way they always headed in search of each other’s skin no matter what room they were in.

“Hey Oliver?”  
“Hmm?” he answered distractedly as he put away his shoes.  
“Is the fundraiser a formal one or a cocktail kind?”  
“Cocktail. Why?”  
“Oliver, you know I need to plan my wardrobe.”  
“And makeup and hair.”  
“Oh Oliver,” she said shaking her head, “You have made a fateful mistake.”

Fearlessly, he gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek and headed towards their bed. Reaching for her hand, he smiled at her scowl and together they hopped into bed, in search of that dreamless space where they could get at least 5 hours of sleep before starting their day.

 

II

There was music in her dream. Soft, gentle and insistent. It floated around her as she walked through Verdant in search of the stairs down to the lair. She stepped through the locked doorway and into the stairwell, the scene shifted to Lian Yu. Every part of her froze. She couldn’t breathe as the music gave way to a piercing shrill whistle.

It sounded like a bomb whizzing by overhead. Breaking out of her frozen state, she ran for cover. The memory of those terrifying moments welled up as a scream in her throat. She was determined to survive again, if only to defeat Adrian’s desire to kill her and everyone in Oliver’s life again.

As she huddled behind a boulder on the beach, she felt a hand slowly work its way around her waist. Instantly, she calmed down and held onto it. A gentle brush of stubble against the back of her neck helped strip away the layers of her dream, one colour at a time. She reached out with her free hand to push away the last of Lian Yu and then turned towards the only person in her life who she would trust with her life.

“‘Morning,” she mumbled, nuzzling into Oliver’s neck.  
“We should at least try to get up,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.  
“Nah, sleep in,” she said as she stepped towards sleep.  
“Felicity, we need to. The boat and its contents await,” he said regretfully.  
“I know, but I was trying to forget for a few minutes more,” she sighed.  
“Go shower while I make breakfast,” he countered.  
“Ok, ok, make the coffee strong though,” she agreed.  
“Consider it done.”

Some mornings they shared the shower, some mornings they staggered them. She was grateful for the privacy her solo shower afforded her. Not just to do things that required her undivided attention, like shaving her legs, but she was thinking about something in the dream she had just before waking up.

For just a moment, before the whine of the bombs began, she could have sworn the music was trying to remind her of something but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It felt like a distant memory that needed coaxing to come to the light. She was determined to track it down even if it was something uncomfortable for them both.

“Ok, where is breakfast?” she asked fifteen minutes later.  
“In the warming drawer. I am going to shower,” he said on his way past her, pausing for a second to give her a quick kiss, “The Harbour Master sent over his initial report. Wait until after you eat to read it.”

Felicity waited until he was out of sight before picking up his tablet and reading the report. It was detailed and full of more horror than she thought possible. Her appetite vacated her as she read about detailed list of body parts found in the cargo hold of the cabin cruiser. It was worse than she had allowed herself to imagine.

They had counted the incomplete remains of five adult men, four adult women and three toddlers, sex unassigned as no torsos had been located. They had only found six heads in total but several of them had decayed in the salt water and the skin had slipped off, leaving only a featureless mess of muscle and bone.

She swallowed hard and continued reading. The hole in the hull had been purposefully created by a sharp object, most likely an ax, and had gradually widened as the boat ran into other objects, including the pier. The was a note at the bottom from the Coroner that made her blood run cold. He felt the same kind of instrument was responsible for the brutal dismemberment of the bodies in the boat as well.

Whoever had done this had hacked apart at least twelve human beings. They had also destroyed the interior of the boat, splintering every surface and interior doors. It would take months to put together the pieces and figure out just what had happened inside it but one thing was clear: the person who did it, had clear and murderous intent.

But how did it tie into Oliver’s family? she wondered as she poured herself some coffee. How or why was it so deliberately aimed at him? Why use his mother’s name to register it? Why call it the Gambit when its original name was direct enough?

“I knew you wouldn’t wait until after your breakfast to read it,” Oliver said, a touch of sadness in his voice, “But it is horrible no matter when you do read it.”  
“Whoever did this is a monster, Oliver. You need to catch them but also need to be extremely careful. They changed the name of the boat on purpose. They used the name of your mother on purpose,” she said, her voice controlled and neutral, “We need to find them and fast. Those people…”  
“I know. No one else can be hurt by this monster,” he said quickly, reaching for her hand.  
“Then let’s get to work,” she said softly, squeezing his hand in mutual support.

Oliver dropped her off at the bunker and headed off to his office. It was mid-morning but the dense fog and overcast sky made the time of day ambiguous. Being underground wasn’t exactly her favourite thing on damp, dark days but she had a lot of work to do to figure out the mystery of the Gambit and the return of Moira Queen to their lives, even if it was just the use of her name.

Powering up her work station, Felicity sat and pondered the way this felt more intimate, more personal than anything they had faced in a long time. Most criminal masterminds that came for them, they used the city as their leverage. This time, they were using Oliver’s Mother and the boat that changed his life. It felt dangerous and like it could spin her husband wildly out of control if they didn’t get a handle on it soon.

Her phone ringing snapped her back to the present. Checking her phone, she saw it was Diggle and hoped this meant her friend was coming to join her.

“Hi John,” she answered warmly, “What’s up?”  
“I saw the news this morning. Is Oliver ok?” he asked in his best calm voice.  
“I don’t think so. I think he is keeping himself calm but you know what they say about still waters,” she muttered.  
“What’s the game plan?”  
“Nothing yet,” she sighed, “I am still unraveling data from last night’s satellite feed and we are waiting confirmation of who the people were in the boat.”  
“You didn’t see any of that did you?” concern coloured his voice for the first time in the call.  
“I did,” she said quietly.  
“Felicity…,” he stumbled.  
“It’s ok, John. I am used to the nightmares. Are you coming in tonight?”  
“I have some bad news on that front. Lyla’s mom is in the hospital,” he explained regretfully, “We have to get down to Florida. She had a stroke last night and it isn’t looking good.”  
“Oh John! I am so sorry!”  
“It’s looking like she won’t last much longer. We need to be there,” he said sadly.  
“Go. We have things covered.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“John, go. Give Lyla all our love.”  
“Thanks, Felicity, but the first sign that things are getting too much…”  
“I’ll call Roy and Thea,” she finished for him, “Go and take care of your family.”

After hanging up with John, she sat back in her chair and considered the possibility of calling Roy and Thea back to Star City and then promptly rejected the idea. She and Oliver needed to talk over bringing Thea into this first. It was her mother’s name and the boat that took her father to his death in play here.

The Queen family had skeletons in closets deeper than the Grand Canyon, she thought as she opened up a file she had missed the night before, but at least it kept them busy and honest.

Opening the file folder, she discovered an entire series of photographs they missed the night before. They were of the hull and taken from a slightly different angle in stark black and white. The strong flash illuminated a series of shadows that seemed to have specific form and to Felicity’s eyes, looked like letters.

Tapping her phone, she pulled up Oliver’s direct line in the Mayor’s office. She needed access to see the boat and if she couldn’t get that, she would need his help later in the night getting into the impound lot to see it during the night. There was definitely something amiss with this boat. Everything about it was a puzzle.

“Hey, hon,” Oliver’s voice was warm and welcoming, “What can I do for you?”  
“So how goes the morning?”  
“Not bad but I don’t think you are calling about my latest meeting with the Public Works head,” he said with a soft chuckle.  
“Now any other day…,” she smiled, “but not today. I got a call from John.”  
“I did, too. Looks like it is just you and I for the next little while,” he said quietly.  
“Yup but we are a great team...which leads me to why I am calling…”  
“Go on,” he said almost wearily.  
“I need to get in to see the boat.”  
“Felicity…,” he started.  
“Oliver, I found something in a file folder we didn’t look in last night. I need to see the boat.”  
“Describe it to me,” he bargained.  
“Nope. Get me in to see it.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. She could almost hear the conversation he was having with himself in his head. She wanted in to see it and with him as Mayor and Green Arrow, she knew one way or another, she was going to.

“We have the fundraiser tonight,” he reminded her, “but if we are fast, I can get us in before it begins.”  
“Perfect. Should I be dressed for the fundraiser or…”  
“Fundraiser. I’ll arrange with the Harbour Master for a quick tour of it.”  
“Won’t he wonder what is going on if I am with you?”  
“Yes, but we can wing it,” he said, a smile colouring his voice.  
“I just need to see part of the hull and for you to distract him for one minute.”  
“Ok, see you at home.”  
“Love you,” she said softly.  
“Love you, too.”

Felicity spent part of the day getting the specialty camera ready. It was one that she and Cisco had created to track for specific light emissions when they were actively searching for metas. It was a tricky piece of equipment and if she didn’t have the settings just right, all she would get would be blurry images of nothing.

Shortly before lunch, she heard the elevator whir into life. When her stomach growled at her, she hoped it was Oliver coming with lunch. Turning in her chair, she watched her husband cross the bunker floor to her computer station. In his hands were Big Belly Burger bags and she almost leapt at him to grab them away.

“Oliver, have I told you lately how much I love you?”  
“You just love me for the food I bring you,” he said, leaning down to give her a soft, lingering kiss.  
“True but I also love you for the way I never have to cook for myself.”  
“Consider it an act of self-preservation for us both,” he said, dodging a pen she let loose in his direction.

He had chosen well and they ate for a time in silence. She was surprised at just how hungry she was as she devoured her cheeseburger. Oliver had opted to get a salad but kept pilfering her fries when he thought she wasn’t looking. He loved fried foods but pretended he didn’t eat them. She teased him relentlessly once and he made kale salad every day for a week in retaliation.

“So what are you going to be looking for on the boat?” he asked as he cleared up the bags and food containers.  
“I’m not sure, which is why I need to get in there to see it close up,” she explained.  
“Is that the camera you are going to use?” he gestured to the small prototype she was calibrating.  
“Yup. I think I have it ready. It is a tough one to program because the aperture is so sensitive.”  
“You can conceal it in your bag?” he asked as he watched her fine tuning the white balance.  
“Of course. How close can you get me?”  
“I can get you within four feet and all alone for about one or possibly two minutes.”  
“You are the best,” she said, turning to him and giving him a kiss.

Before she could turn back to her camera, Oliver pulled her back into a long, gentle kiss. She felt the heat of his hand on the small of her back and the way he cradled her face with the other. Instinctively, she pressed her body against his and felt a swell of love push up through her chest. Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled back to catch her breath.

“Oliver, you have you have to go back to work,” she admonished gently.  
“Not for another fifteen minutes,” he murmured.  
“That leaves us a spare...oh…”  
“Careful,” he warned with a wink.  
“Minute,” she finished with a sly smile.  
“Lovely save,” he murmured as he kissed her again, this time with heat. His tongue swept across her lips and she opened them, loving the velvet smoothness of it wrapped around hers.

“You need to get going and I need to get home to get ready,” she said breathlessly.  
“It’s two pm, Felicity,” he laughed.  
“Do you want me to look good or angry?”  
“You look amazing when you are angry,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and sent him on his way. She actually had no idea what she was going to wear to the fundraiser but needed to get home to figure out how best to carry the camera so that it wouldn’t be spotted. Oliver was a little wary of the Harbour Master and the use of his family’s old boat name and mother’s name in the registry, she was going to err on the side of caution and try to hide things as best she could.

With the camera ready to go, she carefully packed it in its box and grabbed an extra memory card in case she needed it. She was nervous about getting the right angles and light. There was no way she could use a flash in the garage they had the boat in without the Harbour Master seeing it. There was only one thing she hoped and that was all the body parts were in another building.

Pushing those images from her mind and memory, she made her way home to prepare for the one kind of event she had grown to dread. Fundraisers were painful exercises in forced decorum and carefully managed greed. She could single handedly fiance Oliver’s campaign but that would be technically unethical and most likely illegal. One day, she would convince him of its worthiness.

Setting her tablet up on the dresser, so she could monitor the hack she had placed years ago on the SCPD, Felicity started digging through her closet, looking for a dress. In a dry cleaning bag that was hanging on the back of the door, she found the perfect dress. It was royal purple, off the shoulder with a zipper all the way down the back. She could even wear her hair down and not in some scalp torturing updo that required bobby pins and elastics since this was more informal than formal.

The only thing she couldn’t escape was the heels. Hunting along the bottom shelves she found her leopard print stilettos. They would hurt by the end of the night, but she would look good. Standing up, she caught sight of an old pair of Oliver’s boots tucked far in the corner, half buried beneath a stack of her old college textbooks. They were beat up, the laces knotted in strange place just to hold them together, and the sides were so worn away she could see holes in the leather.

Picking them up, she brought them out into the light to see which boots they were. He had kept few souvenirs from his years in exile but he had kept these boots and a jacket that he never wore. He never spoke about them or where he had picked them up but they followed him wherever he went. She long suspected that he had kicked at mountains while wearing the boots she now held in her hands. He had survived atrocities and the systematic dismantling of his identity, memories he battled still to this day, and yet he had kept these reminders. They weren’t shackles, they were evidence that he could rise above the past and live a life not consumed by hatred and pain.

Gently, she replaced them where she found them and replaced the pile of textbooks in front of the boots, carefully and emerged from their closet with a renewed sense of urgency to find out who was using Oliver’s family and tragic history against him. He could have so easily have grown cruel and bitter after Lian Yu, Russia, Hong Kong and even his early return to Starling, back before Ray Palmer blew his life up in search of greatness.

Instead, he had pushed through the uncertainty and allowed hope to guide him. It was the purest part of him but the guilt he carried of being a survivor had left him unable to see the goodness that lived at the very centre of who he had become, the man she more and more every day. Straightening up, she left their closet and began a plan for a special surprise for her husband.

The afternoon slipped past as she both worked on the papers she needed to file for a new piece of tech she has created. She hadn’t even told Oliver yet that she had come up with an idea for a filter that could clean water to 99% purity in regions where water was contaminated and hard to find. It had the potential to change the health and lives of millions of people.

In between calls to her lawyer, she did her hair and makeup and got dressed. This fundraiser was the last of the season and all of Star City’s richest people would be there. Oliver’s past and future in one room. The thought of that stopped her cold. There was the potential that the past part of that equation was hiding the person who was behind the deaths in the boat.

Oliver had probably already considered that but on the off chance he was too distracted by the way his mother had reentered the frame, she ran background checks on every single person attending the evening’s event. She was so wrapped up in the flow of information that she didn’t hear the front door open and close.

“Felicity?” called Oliver.

Snapped back to reality by his voice, she folded her tablet cover over its screen and slipped on her slippers, her heels could wait, and went out to join him. The light in the condo had shifted, the shadows had grown longer and were traveling slowly around the room. She loved late afternoon and watching the sunlight strafe through their floor to ceiling windows. The light swirled in ebbs and flows, flooding every corner of their home.

“Hey,” she smiled as she watched him strip off his suit jacket and plunk down on the couch, “How’d the rest of the day go?”  
“Long,” he sighed, reaching out for her to join him, “I did get an update from the Harbour Master though. The boat has been processed and we can go and see it. I didn’t even have to charm him.”  
“I’m sure this is the better way,” she gently teased, sitting down next to him.  
“Yeah,” he agreed, “I’d hate to have to put in more work than it took to get you to fall in love with me.”  
“Oliver, we don’t have seven years for you to work your magic,” she sighed.  
“Oh, Felicity...you wound me…”  
“You are lucky I went for the low hanging fruit,” she laughed.  
“So are you ready for the op tonight?” he asked, sneaking a kiss on her cheek in as she sat back with him.  
“I think so. Just get the Harbour Master out of the garage for 2 minutes.”  
“I have papers he needs to sign that I made up in the office, so I can do that.”  
“Oooo, clever,” she murmured and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss.  
“Don’t ruin your lipstick,” Oliver said softly.  
“Go get ready,” she said, smiling, wiping her thumb across his bottom lip, “I want to get this fundraiser over with.”

Oliver sighed, got up and retrieved his tuxedo from the rack by the door. He never put it away, as though it was an affront to his regular clothes, but he looked good in it. With a small smile, she hoped the night would end early. Sometimes the air crackled around them, like an electric storm was raging in invisible waves over their skin. She could feel that energy beginning to build and knew it wouldn’t stop until they were skin to skin.

“Felicity! Where are my cufflinks?”  
“Where did you leave them last?” she asked as she wandered back to their bedroom.  
“I think...in the bathroom?” he said and headed in to check, “Found them!”  
“Oliver, you need to put them back in their box. How can you be so...disorganized with them when you aren’t with literally anything else?”  
“Because I hate fundraisers,” he said with a weary sigh and turned to her for assistance, “You look amazing, by the way.”  
“Why thank you and I hate fundraisers, too,” she sighed, “Hey! Let’s skip! Say the Harbour Master wanted you to stay and go over evidence or something!”  
“Sorry, love,” he said, kissing her forehead, “but we have to.”

Ten minutes later, after tying his bow tie for him, they headed out and towards the garage at the edge of the harbour to meet with the Harbour Master. Oliver carefully and skillfully steered the older man off to the side, behind a partition that allowed her to the privacy she needed. The camera was silent and she was able to find the right angle to get the detail she wanted. Once they were out of the building, she would upload them to servers in the bunker and let her decrypting program do its work.

Given the amount of detail in the pictures themselves, it would take all night for all the information to be unpacked. If she was right, she saw the imprint of letters on the side but given the condition of the boat, it was almost impossible to tell without assistance.

“Did you get what you needed?” Oliver asked quietly, his hand on her lower back as they walked away from the evidence garage.  
“I did. The Harbour Master bought your story?” she asked lowly.  
“I think so. He signed the papers without reading them, thank goodness, and gave me an update from the coroner. The autopsy results won’t be ready for another couple of days, unfortunately.”  
“We have time to prepare ourselves. Which is good,” Felicity mused sadly as they got back into their car.  
“Ready for tonight?” Oliver asked as their driver started the car and shifted gently into gear.  
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she grumbled while she uploaded the data and set the parameters for the decryption. Quickly, she checked the background information of the guests for anything that might be a clue and found nothing. Only Star City’s finest citizens would be in attendance.

“I promise, we will leave early,” he said.  
“Famous last words,” she mumbled.

It was midnight by the time they made their exit from the hall and Felicity was teasing Oliver relentlessly about it. From the presence of his rebound girlfriend reporter, to the way he tried to escape the clutches of the newly widowed council woman, who had begun to shamelessly flirt with him long before her husband died, by hiding behind her. It had been like watching a comedy of errors all night long. At one point, he actually tried to hide behind her but she stepped to the side and let the widow have full access to him.

She had enjoyed watching Oliver work the room though. He was effortlessly charming, charismatic and breathtakingly handsome. Every time she caught his eye, she would wink and watch him blush clear up to the tops of his ears. At one point, she ran her hand up one of his arms, under his tux jacket sleeve, and felt him freeze. She gently trailed her fingertips down the soft skin of his inner arm, above his wrist, and delighted in the way he shifted from foot to foot.

Halfway through the night, as they sat at the head table listening to the new deputy Mayor, one of the only City Council women that Oliver trusted, Felicity placed her hand lightly on his leg. Delicately, and slowly, she inched her fingertips across his heavily muscled thigh until they brushed the length of his pant’s zipper. His cock twitched hard under the fabric and she smiled as a blush rose up his neck and made his cheeks turned a rosy pink.

“Felicity,” he said in his gruff voice in the limo on the way home, “we are going to have to have a chat about what is appropriate and not appropriate for you to do to me at public events.”  
“Why, Mr. Mayor,” she said innocently, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”  
“Harumph,” was all he said.  
“I’ll make it up to you,” she said in a voice just above a whisper, “Promise.”  
The ride home was mercifully short and she made sure to hold his hands in hers the entire way back to their condo. She was wearing a surprise for him under her dress and wanted to keep it that way. Felicity was glad to finally be home and slipped off her shoes before the doors on the elevator opened onto their floor. She knew her feet would hurt in the high heels and cursed the media, particularly Susan, for wanting to interview them at the very end of the night. Oliver had offered to carry her at one point and she had cut him a look that caused him to physically recoil.

“Oliver, how many more of these do we REALLY have to go to?” she asked as she flopped on the couch. She had overheard two women in the bathroom talking about a fundraiser coming up after Thanksgiving and had almost groaned out loud. She loved Oliver and his commitment to the city but she had her limits.  
“Not many. I think two or three,” he answered carefully as he hung up their coats.  
“Two or three?” she asked, exasperated and defeated all at once.  
“I promise they will not be like this one,” he said as he joined her on the couch.  
“You said that last time about this one,” she reminded him.  
“I’ll make sure your favourite champagne is there,” he gently teased.  
“Oh, Oliver,” she sighed in mock sadness.  
“Come on, I’m exhausted, let’s go to bed,” he nudged her to get up.  
“Fine,” she grumbled, “but I should make you sleep out here.”

He laughed as she followed him to their bedroom. As they wandered down the hall, she let her eyes travel down his body. She was convinced that he could make baggy sweats and an oversized tshirt look sexy. As it was, the way the suspenders he wore flared out from his waist to his shoulders reminded her again of just how powerfully built and physically beautiful her husband was under the clothes he wore. She smiled in satisfaction as she remembered the look Susan had given her as they left the hall and media behind. That woman was a snake and she was glad she helped Thea take her down.

“You need to find excuses to wear suspenders all the time,” she said softly, running her hands up his back and over his shoulders.  
“That dress is amazing, Felicity,” he breathed softly, turning to face her, “That colour makes your eyes turn colour, almost violet.”  
“It is a nice one, isn’t it?” she teased, turning around, “Could you unzip it for me? It is so awkward.”  
“It is strange that it is done up from the bottom,” he muttered as he leaned down to pull the zipper’s tab up her back.

He got to just below her waist and froze.  
“Felicity…,” he breathed, his voice low and questioning.  
“Hmmm?” she hummed in faux innocence.  
“What...what are you wearing?” he stuttered.  
“Have a look,” she said softly, her voice husky and low. This was his surprise, the one she had managed to keep from him the entire night.

Tentatively, he ran his hands under her dress and felt the lacy border and satiny straps of the garter belt she was wearing. She had been waiting for him to discover this surprise all night, even thinking that at one point he had figured it out. But his reaction, and the way his hands travelled down her legs until he found the tops of her stockings and the smooth skin of her inner thighs, let her know it was a complete shock. When he didn’t feel panties, his exploring came to a brief halt and then he moved his hands up until he felt the slippery wet heat of her and nothing else.

“Good God, Felicity...how come you didn’t tell me?” he murmured.  
“I thought we were going to be home hours ago,” she chuckled softly as she moved her legs apart just a fraction, allowing him more space to explore.  
“You are amazing,” he said with heat and desire singeing each word.

He continued unzipping her dress, carefully removed it from her body and laid it across the chair beside her dresser. She gently backed into him and moved her hips against his groin. He made quick work of her bra, his shirt and suspenders while she reached behind her and stroked him through his pants. The friction of the cloth and her hand was enough to get him fully erect. Her vision had begun to dim around the edges as she struggled to concentrate remaining standing while he undid his pants.

“Should I take the garters off?” she asked as she waited for him.  
“Don’t you dare,” he warned as he kicked his pants off followed very quickly by his underwear.

Felicity started to turn around but he stopped her with strong but shaking hands. She felt seductive, erotic and in control without having to face him. The energy they were creating charged the air and she could feel it rushing over their skin in static waves. He pulled her to him, pushing his cock up against his belly between them, and he explored her body with his hands. When he cupped her breasts, dipping his head low to kiss her neck, she swayed slightly and covered his hands with her own, letting him guide their combined path over her skin.

“Oliver?” she whispered.  
“Hmmm?” he hummed, his lips on her neck.  
“Bed. My feet hurt.”

Together, they slowly moved to their bed and climbed on. He stopped her before she could move to far. She knew that the way she looked, wearing only her garter belt and stockings, was intoxicating for him. The sound of his breathing was growing deeper and more primal with every passing second. Gently, he ran his hands over her back. Only one lamp was on but she knew it was enough to see her scars, shiny and delicate pink. With every pass of his hands, her muscles moved underneath them. She felt powerful in her own quiet way. Part of her mourned that she had to be strong, physically and mentally, but she was proud of how she had taken control of all the pain that had visited her and made it bend to her will.

“Move your legs closer together,” he whispered.

He waited for her to find a comfortable position and then straddled her legs from behind. He rubbed the head of his cock against her, making her body twitch as he slowly inched inside her. She tensed around him and felt her consciousness slip sideways. She heard him gasp and she pushed back on him, taking him in as deep as the angle would allow.

“You should have told me earlier,” he gasped.  
“The surprise was so much better this way,” she said with a sly smile over her shoulder.

Leaning down, he kissed her between her shoulder blades and thrust inside her with firm strokes, and she felt the way her body moved involuntarily to accommodate him which was something close to paradise. She was exhausted but the call of his body was more than she could withstand. He had been a vision of sex and confidence in his tuxedo and she wanted him more than she wanted sleep.

Felicity gripped the duvet and tried to keep herself in check. The pressure in her pelvis was building, low and hot, and it was starting its journey through her body. She wanted to make this all about sex, about the way his cock felt inside her, about the way she could go wild and push him past his limit, breaking him with her body. But he slowed down, pulled out, and helped her turn over, derailing her plans.

“I thought the view was better from behind,” she teased.  
“You have no idea,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her. It was an intense, passionate kiss, urgent and greedy. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and for just a moment, she managed to suck it, sending jolts of white hot electricity all the way through her body.

He sank to his knees and gently pushed her onto her back. She looked at him, her face and chest lightly flushed, and smiled, “I’m so glad we left when we did, you looked amazing in your tuxedo.”  
“Me?” he was genuinely surprised.

Sitting up, Felicity took his face in her hands and studied him. She didn’t say anything, instead she traced his lips with her thumbs and moved closer to him. Oliver blinked several times, breathing through his rising desire and waited. Her lips parted and before she could say a word, he pulled her closer and kissed her again, the tip of his tongue tracing her lips while he used the size of his body to lay her back on the bed.

She felt his lips slowly kiss down her neck and chest. Oliver took a deep breath and hummed approvingly. She had used a body wash she found in Italy that he once told her made her smell like a summer garden, lush and live, floral and delicate, and her skin was hot and silky under his lips and tongue. He was breathing deeply and pulling her on his journey down her body.

When his tongue found her clit, she jerked and gasped. She flowed hot over his lips when he pushed forward, sucking and rasping his tongue against her. Felicity loved this moment, when he would trace a path through her most secret and sensitive parts. He would trace circles with the tip of his tongue before plunging into her, using his whole mouth to bring her to ecstasy. It was intensely intimate and profoundly erotic to watch him in an act of supplication between her legs.

She moaned low in her throat when he pushed two fingers into her and flexed them forward. He pulsed them against the delicate spot only his fingers could reach properly and drank her in. Her orgasm ripped through her, her legs tightened around his head, her back arching off the bed and her hands gripped his hair as he continued to gently lick and suck her clit. Sometimes she felt the strong tip of his tongue circling round and round, other times she felt the entire width of it rasping hard against her until she came again, her chest heaving as she lost herself to the ecstasy he had been pulling her towards all along.

“God, Oliver,” she gasped, “please…”

He smiled as he climbed on to the bed, snaking one arm under her and moved them into the centre of it. Settling across his lap, she reached between them and grasped his cock, stroking him until his breath came in short gasps and he gripped her as tightly as he dared. She looked into his eyes and saw the universe unfold within them. Falling in love with him had been the scariest thing she had ever done but she was glad that she took the chance and that she had waited for him to find his way to her.

“I love you,” she said quietly, her voice husky and low.  
“I love yo…,” he started to speak but she guided him into her and he lost the ability to form words.

Felicity hooked her legs behind him and pulled herself up, so that she was pressed tight against him. Her lips found his neck and she lightly scratched his back. He grabbed her hips, feeling the way the muscles in her ass started to flex as she ground against him. She was squeezing him tight with each movement, and she could feel his cock starting to throb with each pulsing flex. Oliver closed his eyes and let himself go with the rhythm she was setting.

With a gentle nudge, she got Oliver to lie back. She straddled his hips and sank down the length of him. Gazing down at Oliver, she began a languid series of thrusts, moving her hips in a circular motion, keeping him deep inside her.

Oliver moved his hands up her body, caressing and massaging her body. It was hypnotic, drawing them closer together until she felt like their hearts had merged to become one. Placing her hands over his, she moved her hips in time with their heart beats and let her consciousness drift, searching for the current that connected her to Oliver.

Carefully, Oliver turned them, so that she was her back, looking up at him. He blocked out the light from the small lamp on the dresser but it still flowed around him, illuminating the way his muscles rippled under his skin. Sitting back on his knees, he gently unsnapped her garters from her stockings. He took his time rolling them down and off her legs, all the while rocking his hips against hers.

Felicity saw flashes of Positano and the night he had slowly undressed her under the full moon. She had frozen in place and watched him, her eyes wide in the brilliant silver light, as he revealed her body to the earth and sky. As each layer was removed, he would stop and trail his fingertips lightly over her skin, causing her heart to flutter. By the time his lips found hers, her desire had grown to a blind need that eclipsed all reason.

As he slipped her garter belt over her hips, trailing his fingertips across the tender skin on her inner thighs, she felt that same primal need, a kind of raw sensuality that flowed through every touch and movement. It was all tied to the song of their hearts and the rhythm it created in their bodies when they were joined and she wanted to find it again.

When he finally thrust back inside her, their bodies launched into a rhythm that caused the rest of the world to fade away. Felicity felt the same pull towards ecstacy beginning and followed it with her eyes closed and hands tightly pressed against his as they cupped her breasts. She gasped and felt her body tighten around him as she came in surges and waves. Oliver moaned, a low, thundering moan that shook the room and bent the edges of reality, and she felt the throb and pulse of his cock as he came deep inside her.

“Please wear those under your clothes again,” Oliver said quietly a few minutes later, his eyes closed, “but don’t tell me. I love this kind of surprise.”  
“Why did you take them off?”  
“I wanted to feel all of you.”

She regarded him for a moment, the softness of his smile, the gentle way he was stroking the backs of her hands with his thumbs, and she dove deep into the waters of her heart and found only the light he brought to her life. There would never be anyone she would love more in this or any other lifetime than Oliver Queen and knew he felt the same way about her.

Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss and slowly laid down beside him. He pulled the duvet over them both and wrapped both it and himself around her, molding their bodies together. Kissing his chest, on the mottled and waxy skin that formed the scar where his Bratva tattoo used to be, Felicity closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, when they were both deeply asleep, a shadow drifted past their front door. It paused, merging with the darkness of their livingroom, and then grew so that it blotted out the light in the hallway beyond the door. Silently, a plain white envelope was slid under the door. It was thin but what it contained would wage war in Felicity’s heart, making her relive her worst moment over and over.

The shadow slowly receded, moving like oil over water, until its last tendrils released the shadows from within the condo, and it disappeared leaving chaos in its wake. When they awoke in the morning, Oliver and Felicity would discover that the Gambit was just the beginning.


	5. Firestorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter from Oliver's POV.
> 
> He is restless, anxious and looking for ways to release that built up energy in a way that allows him to be the Green Arrow.
> 
> But it is also about Felicity and her role in his life as his partner in everything they share. This chapter is a bit violent, with explicit everything, and sexy and sets the stage for the next chapter which...will be tense. Oliver is Oliver, but he has evolved and so has their adversary.

Chapter Three: Firestorm

I  
_“Thechihila”, she said quietly,_  
 _”I’ll suffer for you,_  
 _it’s what the Lakota say for I love you.”_

 

Oliver awoke before their alarm clocks went off. It was his habit, to quietly enter the day before the interference of technology. It allowed him the chance to wait for Felicity to feel the change in his breathing and join him in the solitude of their bedroom before the day sought them out. She was facing away from him, nestled down into the duvet, but he felt the slight shift in her rhythm and smiled.

“Mmmmmit’stooearly…,” she mumbled into her pillow.

Oliver answered by snaking an arm over her waist and pulling her back into his chest. Their alarms would be going off soon but that still gave them time to relax and wake up at their own pace. The sun was up and already warming their bedroom signalling it was after 7 am but Oliver was in no hurry after the long night. Memories of the way the evening ended rose up and he sighed in contentment. Felicity had taken him by surprise in the best possible way with the garters and stockings .

“Come on,” he said softly, “we need to shower after last night.”  
“Ooooh I never washed my face!” she said mournfully, “Don’t look at me.”  
“Felicity,” he laughed, “you know I don’t care about that.”  
“I know but I need to preserve my dignity,” she grumbled.  
“Oh, Felicity…,” he chuckled, “that has come and gone.”  
“You are showering alone,” she said as she left the bed and made her way to the bathroom.

Oliver smiled after her and waited for the sound of the water in the shower. When he was sure she was under the falling water, he quickly got up and joined her. She protested at first but reluctantly gave in after he poured shampoo into his hand and began washing her hair. No matter the time of day, she loved it when he would help her get ready for the day.

“So, this morning...will we be getting the coroner’s report?” she asked him while they toweled off.  
“I think so. Or at least a preliminary report,” he answered as he checked the clock. He had a meeting in an hour but was curious about the pictures she had taken the night before. Whatever she had been looking for was in the files she was letting her programs process and he wanted to see what it had her so firmly focused.

“Ok, I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. Coffee?”  
“And bagels,” he smiled.  
“Oh thank God. I am starving,” she exclaimed as she walked out of the bathroom in search of clothes.

Oliver just shook his head. Felicity ate more than he did some days, not that he would ever tell her that for fear for his life, but he loved that about her. She had ferocious appetites for food, knowledge and experiences. He had learned more from her in the last six years then he could measure simply by following her from one topic to the next, picking up tiny bits of information like crumbs on a trail.

He wandered out to meet her in the kitchen when he caught sight of something yellow on the floor in front of door. Curious, he crossed the living room to see what it was, thinking it might be the program from the night before. He was just about to pick it up when he saw the careful black block printing of Felicity’s name on across it.

“Felicity…,” he called, “could you come here?”  
“What’s up?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee as she crossed over to him.  
“This envelope appears to be addressed to you.”  
“You haven’t touched it yet, have you?” she asked sharply, putting her mug down and running to retrieve a ziplock bag and a set of tongs from the kitchen.  
“Felicity, you raised me better than that,” he said sardonically.  
“Oliver, don’t sass me,” she sighed as she crouched to slip the envelope into the ziplock bag, “Nothing good ever gets slipped under your door while you sleep in a manila envelope.”  
“To the bunker?”  
“To the bunker.”

Ten minutes later, they were dressed and ready out the door with the envelope in hand. Oliver quietly texted his executive assistant and had her reschedule his morning meetings because he was not going to leave Felicity alone to deal with whatever was in it. Plus he wanted to see the results of their mission from the night before. He had no idea what she had seen but he wanted her to show him.

“Oliver, I’m nervous,” she spoke this so softly, he almost didn’t hear her over the sounds of traffic that filtered into the car as they drove to the bunker.  
“I’ll be right there with you,” he said reassuringly. He was careful to keep his own nervousness out of his voice.  
“Nothing good ever gets slipped under the door in the middle of the night in a plain manila envelope,” she muttered, turning the ziplock baggie in her hands over and over, looking for something to clue her into who had left it or what was in it.

“Felicity,” he said quietly, “we are almost there.”  
“Hmm? Oh. Ok,” she said distractedly but not looking up to see where they were.

He had pulled into the garage, closed the steel door and turned the car off before she looked up and saw they were in the bunker. She was chewing on her thumbnail and studying the way her name was printed on the envelope. He had seen that look before on her face when she was clued into something small but significant. She didn’t say a word to him when she got out, closing the door firmly behind her.

He watched her cross the bunker and head to her section that held all of her equipment for fingerprinting, chemical testing and analysis. She was methodical and precise. Every movement was deliberate and measured. She was looking for anything that could point in the direction of who had slipped the envelope under their door.

On a hunch, he crossed to her central computer bank and turned on the screens. Instantly, a flood of images appeared. She had rendered them in high definition 3D. There was so much detail he wasn’t sure what he was actually looking at until suddenly all the little details merged and he saw what it was she had been searching for.

“Felicity,” he called, “you are going to want to come over here to see this.”

Without a word, Felicity joined him by the centre console. She took one look at the photograph he pointed to when she reached him and he heard her intake of breath. Oliver looked at her and saw the way her eyes were lasered in on the photograph and how fast her mind was working. He knew she was seeing things he had missed and rapidly pulling together threads of information and processing them at light speed.

“What is it we are looking at, Felicity?” he asked, coaxing her to tell him what she was seeing.  
“Look at the top left,” she said, pointing to the spot she wanted him to see, “See those ridges and lines and how they travel down the centre line of the boat?”

Oliver followed the path of her finger and things started to make more sense.

“Is that a face?” he asked incredulously.  
“It is. It is one face of many,” she said softly and then pulled two more pictures to the forefront for him to see.

The person who had painted the boat and filled it with the dismembered bodies of twelve people, had somehow created a contour painting in the white fibreglass that formed the hull of the boat. Oliver saw his mother, his father, Thea, Tommy, William, Diggle, Felicity and himself. What could have been a family portrait had only three of the people in the contour mural that were alive.

The killer or killers had created a tableau of his life using a high tech method only available to a few people and organizations around the world. He wasn’t going to pretend to ever know what it all meant but he trusted Felicity and that trust had just paid off in a very big way. If it was that specialized, she had just uncovered a way to identify the person or people behind the Gambit and all the deaths aboard it.

“How did you know?” he asked, his voice warm with pride and awe.  
“I didn’t, not really...I had a hunch that something was there when I saw how the lights and the shadows didn’t fall correctly.”  
“Only you would see something like that,” he said with a small smile.  
“You would have seen it eventually,” she said softly, slipping her hand into his and leaning against him. He was momentarily distracted by the scent of coconut and ylang ylang from her shampoo.

“Oliver, this is a major clue,” she said with building energy.  
“So what next?”  
“I will dive into it. There aren’t many places that do this kind of thing at this scale,” she said quickly, with a thread of excitement. Before she could continue, the timer on whatever test she was running went off and she was bolted for her science station.

With a shake of his head, Oliver followed her while contemplating the meaning behind the portrait on hidden on the boat. Felicity was reading her tablet and frowning. She kept glancing at the envelope with worried eyes and a down turn to her mouth. Where the pictures she took revealed a series of clues for them to investigate, he suspected the envelope was revealing nothing.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned and curious.  
“There is nothing. Not a hair, not a fibre, fingerprint...nothing. What I thought was handwriting isn’t, it was stenciled on,” she said in frustration.  
“Well, let’s open it,” he suggested carefully. He was nervous about what could be in it.  
“Ok, but I am going to wear latex gloves,” she muttered, pulling on a fresh pair.

With a great deal of care, she sliced the end of it open and slid out a single sheet of paper. Felicity read what was on it and he watched the colour drain from her face. Her hands started to tremble and shake enough that he quickly grabbed a pair of tweezers and eased it out of her hands.

And then he read it.

It was a photocopy of a letter from an elderly woman who lived in Star City to her granddaughter, who had died in the nuclear destruction of Havenrock. She wrote about the missed birthdays, the missed Christmases and school plays. She wrote about how her husband had died of cancer a few months earlier and now she was faced with a slowly fading mind, now ravaged by Alzheimer's.

She wrote that she was slowly forgetting what her family looked like, that their voices were now whispers, buried deep in her memory. The last moments of their last visit with each other were all she could remember clearly. The way her granddaughter had laughed at her terrible jokes and the kisses, soft as velvet, left on her cheeks. She remembered the way her hair smelled, like coconut and pineapples, and the softness of her touch.

The letter ended on a simple, tender line. The grandmother had written: _Someone once said time heals all wounds, that our grief will come to an end, but that assumes the source of that grief is finite. I will love you forever and grieve your loss until the universe ends and recreates itself anew._

Her signature was shaky and seemed to fall across the page it had been written on, scattered in lines and dots with no form holding the letters of her name together. Oliver felt tears spring to his eyes and was momentarily lost in a deep well of loss and regret. He had failed Felicity on that fateful night. She refused to accept his apologies because she didn’t believe him or his reasons.

If he had killed Damian Darhk when he had the chance, that night would not have happened. Felicity would have been free from all she had to go through to heal from the choices made and actions taken. She did everything she could, which was more than humanly possible, and had prevented millions of deaths.

She still had nightmares about Havenrock, ones she thought she was hiding from him, but she had let go of a lot of the guilt and grief that had almost destroyed her all those months ago. Now when she retreated from the world, she took him with her and they would go to Klamath or the cabin just outside of town. The retreats were coming less often but when they did, they were intense and full of intimacy, honesty and tears.

“Felicity,” he said sharply, pulling her attention back to him, “Don’t. Don’t take this as yours.”  
“Oliver…,” she whispered, her voice paper thin and fading, tears slowly falling down her cheeks, “Look what I have done.”

With extra care, he put the paper down on a clean metal tray and then wrapped his arms around her, letting her find her place of calm. When the shaking had stopped, he rubbed her back and felt her breathing begin to even out. It broke his heart to pieces, ripped him to shreds silently as they fell. He would give his life to protect her from any evil their life together could throw at them.

“You did nothing wrong, Felicity. You know that. You paid for Darkh’s sins, they were never yours to hold,” he said softly, “This is a ploy by someone sick and evil. Someone we will find. I promise.”  
“I know, Oliver, I do,” she said with just a mourning in her voice, “We will fight the good fight, I know it but how did they know about my involvement?”  
“I don’t know but I suspect you will find out.”

He kissed the top of her head and waited for her to feel her own strength. His skin felt prickly and hot, like he had a fever. But he knew this feeling. He was on the precipice of rage. A soul altering rage where the only thing that could alleviate it would be a night of patrol like he used to do in the beginning. Just him, his bow, his fists and his mission.

Felicity would try to stop him but if he was honest with her and kept his time on the streets to a minimum, he suspected he could talk her into backing him up. It was second nature to them now, they could do this in their sleep. Besides, the Green Arrow needed to be seen doing what made him such a valuable asset to the city. He had been away for longer than usual and needed to step up.

“Isn’t it time for you to get to work?” she asked quietly.  
“I rearranged my morning,” he murmured.  
“You are my hero.”  
“Finally!” he exclaimed in mock jubilation, “I have been waiting six years…”  
“If you keep this up, you will be waiting 84 more,” she grumbled and left the shelter of his arms.

Oliver smiled and watched her go back to studying the the test results on the envelope. She would soon turn her attention to the sheet of paper it once contained and wouldn’t leave until those tests were complete. From there, together, they would devise a plan of attack and unravel the mystery before them. It felt like another spiral with clues and reveals pulling them closer to the centre where the solution would be found.

“It’s like the envelope was created in a vacuum. There isn’t a single particle on it that I can trace anywhere. This makes no sense,” she was muttering to herself as she studied her computer screen.

Oliver watched her move between her equipment and computer. She set up the next set of tests and then carefully, reverently, picked up the letter and set it into a sterile tray. He watched as she bit her lip in concentration, how she stood perfectly still as the spectrometre did it’s work. He suspected the paper the letter had been copied onto would be just as clean as the envelope. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing.

“Nothing. Not a speck of dust, not a particle of oil. Nothing,” she said, frustration and what hinted at anger creeping into her voice, “I’m going to try something else.”

Curious about what she was doing, he followed her to a different part of her lab station and waited as she put special glasses on. They had been created by Cisco and would allow her to see in a variety of different colour spectrums. At the moment, she was running a ultraviolet light over the pale yellow paper, inch by inch. She reached the centre of the page and froze.

“Oliver, come here,” she said, her voice clipped and tight.  
“What did you find?” he asked as he joined her.

In answer, she handed him the glasses she had on and then pointed to the spot on the page she had positioned the light over. He looked at her and then down at the page and read the message hidden in wavelength. It was a message directed at Felicity written in a substance that mimicked blood but was invisible to the naked eye.

_**“I am coming for you, Felicity Smoak.”** _

Was all it said.

“You are coming with me to the office,” he said, his voice low and measured.  
“Oliver, I am safe here. Once that garage door is shut upstairs and we are behind that metre thick door made out of materials I can barely pronounce, no one can get in,” she said dismissively but the colour had drained from her face and she was absentmindedly rubbing her forefinger and thumb together. She did that when fear was creeping into her, making her remember all the other times in her life when violence, death and extreme danger had shattered her world.  
“Felicity, I know that but if you are downtown, we can go over to Police HQ and get info on the boat.”

Felicity turned and looked at him in silence, her eyes blank and her face arranged in a neutral expression. He hated it when she did that, he felt cut off from her completely but she narrowed her eyes and nodded. Her curiousity would always get the better of her and this particular mystery had her pulled in too many directions. He knew from experience that bringing her to place of peace would open her mind in ways that still stunned him. Her intelligence and deep need to know everything possible was her defining characteristic and probably the first thing that attracted his attention to her in a non-platonic way.

From his vantage point, he watched Felicity collect a number of pages she had printed off from the test results and then back to her computer station to get her purse and jacket. Oliver looked around the bunker while she prepared for working off site for the day. They had rebuilt the interior of the bunker after Diaz had tried to burn it out using proprietary materials from the military that ARGUS had access to and a few experimental ones from STAR Labs.

Nothing, not even a nuclear bomb, could reach them. Not the radiation, nothing. They were completely off the grid, had their own power source, water and air supply. They had enough food to last several months if they got locked in and an apartment built with four bedrooms. He and Felicity had planned it and had it built in secret to house them, William, Raisa, Diggle and his family as well as Thea and Roy should the need arise.

With how personal this had become, he knew that staying in their home was out of the question. Whoever this person was, they knew where they lived. William would have to stay away for a lot longer than was anticipated as he and Felicity could not return home anytime soon.

“So, tonight…,” he began carefully.  
“You are going to say that we are staying here and that we will be living here until this entire thing is solved, right?” she finished for him.  
“You know me so well,” he smiled.  
“I know that normally I would argue with you but...I agree,” she said with a rueful smile.  
“I need to get this on film,” he deadpanned.

Felicity slipped softly towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He could feel how tightly she was holding herself, how still she was attempting to make herself. She wasn’t afraid, not in the traditional sense, at least not about herself. Knowing her the way he did, he knew she was thinking about William, about Risa, about the people on the boat and about him. Pulling her tighter to him, he rubbed her back and felt her relax.

“At least we are equipped down here and we have the courtyard above,” she murmured.  
“Smart of me to connect it to the water and electricity down here,” he mused.  
“Very,” she agreed, “I like being off the grid.”  
“When I retire from public life, what do you say that the two of us spend some serious time out at Klamath. William can spend time with Samantha’s family, like he needs to, and we can figure out the rest of it,” he suggested quietly.  
“I would love that, Oliver.”

It was something he thought about often: retirement. It was a dream right now, but the idea that there could be an after the present they were currently living in filled him with a sense of hope that was thinly veined with terror. Living a life filled with peace held equal parts promise and dread, and both left him feeling paralysed. But now, standing in the quiet bunker in a gentle embrace with the woman his life was meant for, he felt like racing towards it. Leaving all of the uncertainty and violence behind and simply existing on their wild and beautiful beach. Love had found him and brought with it the chance to start his life for himself, for them.

“Let’s get going. We are going to need to get clothes and stuff from home without drawing attention, too,” she said with a soft sigh.  
“Felicity, you would have to be subtle. Your shoe bag alone would tip anyone off that something was up. That thing is enormous,” he said, trying but failing to keep the laugh out of his voice.  
“I only have a few pairs here!” she protested.  
“You have a dozen or more!”  
“Fine. But I do need an overnight bag with a few things. I can use a backpack. Make it look like I am headed to the gym,” she reasoned.  
“Gym?”  
“Oliver, I can look the part even if I can’t be the part,” she laughed.

With a chuckle, Oliver nudged her towards the elevator doors. The time to start the day was now because he was looking forward to the beginning of the night, when he could reattach his soul to his body and become a shadow. He had yet to face some uncomfortable truths about himself and the appearance of this new Gambit was causing his nerves to twitch under his skin.

“You are twitchy, Mr. Queen,” she commented as they rode the elevator up to the main floor.  
“I have a feeling today is going to be an interesting one,” he sighed.  
“Me, too,” she said quietly, her voice soft and small.

Through a hidden and unregistered hallway, one that they had constructed to allow them to enter the office space unseen from the public garage next store, they made their way to their car and headed to the Mayor’s office. Oliver was on high alert. Every shadow was a possible threat and he had no intention of being caught unaware.

The drive was a short one without much conversation. Felicity was reading the pages of printed results and chewing her thumb nail. As they made their way up to his office, Oliver’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. He knew it was his Executive Assistant wondering where he was and why the hell he was so late for the meetings he had rescheduled.

“So do I get my own office or do I have to hang out in yours until dinner time?” Felicity asked softly, slipping her hand into his.  
“You can use Thea’s office,” he smiled.  
“We don’t want tongues wagging,” she teased with a bump of her hip against him.

Unbidden, a memory pushed up to the surface of his mind. He smiled at the memory of the two of them, late one night when everyone had gone home and the security guards had made their rounds, closing the door to his office. It was right before Diaz had escaped custody, before all the deaths and the resulting trauma. Felicity had hiked her skirt up over her hips and welcomed him into her body with grace and a sensual heat that had left him powerless in his desk chair.

He felt a flush rise up his cheeks, hot and embarrassingly pink, and gently hip checked her so that her body was no longer tight against his. He heard Felicity snicker under her breath just as the elevator doors slid open.

“I’ll see you for a late lunch?” she asked as they walked towards his suite of offices.  
“2pm?”  
“Perfect,” and with that she disappeared into Thea’s office and closed the door.

It was after eleven and he had more meetings to get through before lunch with his wife then he was truly happy with having to be in. Finance, Public Works, Parks and the Chief of Police all wanted his time and attention. Luckily, he was able to pass most of the work off to his new Deputy Mayor and focus on the major issue on his agenda: getting the police back up on their feet and mend some fences with them as he did.

By the time 2pm arrived, he was hungry and fidgety. He wanted the day to be over so that he could work out all this built up tension in his body and mind. Felicity came in with lunch, sushi, small bottles of Sapporo beer, and a grim look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked, accepting a tray of tuna sashimi and a bottle of beer, “Is it really bad enough to warrant a bottle of beer? It is a small one, but still.”  
“It’s disconcerting, Oliver.” was all she said as she opened hers and took a long draught.  
“Tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, Felicity launched into what she had discovered. “The paper is regular stock, like any you’d get in bulk at Staples, but the ink is unique. I need to send it to Cisco so he can run it through whatever test he can think of at Star Labs but...the ink is human blood. I just can’t figure out how it was rendered invisible. That’s why I need Cisco.”  
“But that isn’t what has you looking so concerned is it?” he asked, encouraging her to continue.  
“There is nothing on the envelope. Nothing. LIke it was created and written on in a vacuum. This isn’t natural but I did find something out about the Gambit,” she said with a brighter tone, “The materials for it are unique. As in I should be able to locate where the elements were created and purchased and then…”

Oliver looked at Felicity and struggled to not burst with pride. He knew she could figure this puzzle out and given the right amount of time, he knew he could bring them that person or persons to heel. He could feel the itch in his skin, the one that could only be calmed through physical action. He was looking forward to going out on patrol.

“I know that look, Oliver, and you know how I feel about it.”  
“I can’t sit inside. Not after the past two days, Felicity.”  
“I know. I didn’t say I was going to stop you, just that I am not a fan of it,” she said matter of factly.  
“I promise I won’t engage unless the situation absolutely warrants it. Deal?” he asked, his hand extended. Felicity took his hand and shook it, sealing the deal between them.

“So why the beer?” he asked.  
“Because your shoulders were so tight, it looked like they might snap and besides, I got us the light beer,” she said with a small smile.  
“I’m going to make questionable decisions in my meeting with my Deputy,” he muttered.  
“I was thinking about what we might need for the next few days,” she said, “How about instead of going home, I pop over to the mall and get just toiletries.”  
“I think that should be fine,” he said, his brow creasing in worry, “but call me or text me every five minutes.”  
“Every five minutes? How about every ten,” she bargained.  
“Seven.”  
“Eight and a half.”  
“S-e-v-e-n,” he said with finality.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity threw up her hands and said, “Fine. But I will literally be one minute away.”  
“You and I both saw what this person is capable of. They are connected, violent, rich and know the both of us in a way that is more intimate than I would like,” he said patiently, “They also know where we live.”  
“Which reminds me, I had the Concierge send over the video footage from the security cameras. There is a glitch in the recording at 3am. I think that whomever this is, they managed to hack into our buildings security. Not that it’s hard but they covered their tracks really, really well.”  
“Seven minutes, Felicity.”

Taking his now empty sashimi tray and bottle of beer from him, Felicity headed out with an exasperated shake of her head. He knew he was being unyielding but the longer she was out of sight, the more anxious he became. Even with just crossing the street in the middle of the day to go to the mall, she was exposing herself to unnecessary risk but he knew better than to stop her from going.

True to her nature, she called him seven minutes later to the second. Felicity knew how to make a day of shopping look casual and was doing a fine job of picking up essentials they would need for the foreseeable future. He had a feeling they wouldn’t see their home for a long while considering the lengths their new adversary had gone to in order to make themselves known.

His wife was a strong one and even when he felt uneasy about her decisions, she was almost always right, and he had learned to not challenge her every decision after years of apologizing. With her back in the office, twenty four minutes later, he was able to focus on the remaining meetings and edge his way into the evening. The thought of getting out on the street, even if only for a couple of hours, gave him the breath of fresh air he needed. When they left for the day, hand in hand, Oliver felt lighter and more ready to face what was coming than ever.

 

II

“Hey Felicity!” he called from the back of the bunker.  
“What?” she yelled back in return.  
“Did you fix my body cam?”  
“Yup! Now in HD.”  
“Alright, I’m going to head out in about twenty minutes. I need to check my bow and then I’m out,” he said somewhat distractedly. The state of his bow was perfect but he was going over it again just to make sure he hadn’t missed a nick in the line.

Felicity was watching him from her vantage point, his back was to her but he could feel her eyes on him.  
“Felicity, I can feel you staring.”  
“You know I hate it when you go out with physical backup,” she stated plainly.  
“We’ve been over and over this,” he said with a sigh. He got up and joined her on at her computer station, hoping that he could convince her that for now this kind of action was needed.  
“I know but this different, Oliver. Whoever this is, they know us but I can’t figure out who the target is. You, me, Thea, John? I just don’t know.”  
“But you will soon, I believe in you, Felicity. When I get back, we will sit down and talk it out. Ok?”

“You think you can sweet talk me, huh?” she asked after a moment of silence.  
“No, but I think I can promise you that with the working body cam you can make sure I don’t get carried away,” he said softly, taking her hands in his, stroking the backs of them with his thumbs, “You know all you have to do is tell me to stop and come home and I will.”  
“Ok,” she nodded.  
“Ok,” he smiled, raising her hands to his lips and tenderly kissing them both, “I’ll be back in two hours.”  
“Time starts now,” she murmured, her eyes wide and bright.

Putting his mask on and his hood up, Oliver made his way out into the cool, Star City night. It was clear and cold, perfect for being out and running from roof to roof. The first hour was uneventful. He prevented a couple of muggings and managed to stop a break in but he wasn’t satisfied. There was a need to burn the build up of tension and energy out, to engage in something physical. He knew Felicity would be worried, but he could handle himself.

Running on intuition, he headed towards the docks, where the rougher, more violent citizens of Star City resided. If he was going to find the physical engagement that he was seeking, that was the place to be. Within minutes, he was prowling a rooftop by the pier. He didn’t think their invisible adversary would show up, but something was going to happen here and soon.

“Green Arrow, look to your left. For warehouse fifty two,” came Felicity’s strained voice over his com unit.  
“What is it, Overwatch? What am I looking for,” he replied.  
“It is supposed to be empty but I am detecting five men inside.”  
“I’m going in to check it out.”  
“Ok. Be careful,” she said, her voice thick with tension.  
“I will. Green Arrow out.”

Silently, Oliver made his way down to ground level and quickly sprinted the distance between the building he had chosen to survey the pier and the one Felicity had pointed out as being in use when it shouldn’t be.

The side door had been jimmied open but had been carefully reclosed. Oliver turned and was looking for an alternative way in when he spotted an iron ladder near the middle of the building. It was four feet off the ground and easy for him to reach. In a few near silent strides, he was under then up it, climbing quickly, effortlessly, to the roof fifty feet above.

“Overwatch,” he called softly, “Where are they?”  
“They are twenty metres ahead of you and approximately five to your left,” she answered in an equally quiet voice.  
“Any indication about what they are doing?”  
“None. They are grouped together, like they are talking. Do you have your nano-mic?”

Checking his side pocket, he located the small box with the nearly invisible mic in it. A new toy from Star Labs. He could drop it from over a hundred feet in the air and once it landed, Felicity could activate it, letting them both hear what they had dropped it for. After an hour, it would lose power and disintegrate to dust.

Carefully, Oliver crossed to the section of the roof that corresponded to the directions given to him and spotted a roof vent. It allowed him to reach through it and drop the nano-mic to the warehouse floor below.

“Activating mic now,” a few seconds later, she said in a low, taut voice.

After an initial burst of static, the feed settled down and they began to hear the men speaking in quiet, angry voices.

“I TOLD you that the shipment would be late. We are sitting ducks out here,” said a man with a strong Southern drawl.  
“Shut the fuck up,” hissed a man with what sounded like a Midwestern accent, “It will get here when it gets here. Your constant complaining isn’t going to make that happen any quicker.”  
“We all have a stake in this operation going off without a hitch,” said a third man, his voice smooth and calm, “the truck is probably on the bridge now. It isn’t due for another ten minutes, Seth, you best get that watch checked.”

One man snorted in derision while another yawned. Oliver just needed to know what kind of shipment was coming before deciding on the best course of action.

“You sure this new guy can be trusted? Because if I get fucked on this deal, YOU get fucked,” said the angry Southern man.  
“If you get fucked on this, we all do,” said the fourth man, his voice deep and resonant, “and yeah, this guy can be trusted. He supplied the Bratva in Russia for a decade before crossing over here. So shut the fuck up and have a drink.”

So far, the fifth man had not said a word. Oliver heard one of them get up and move a short distance from others. The sound of ice cubes hitting glass, the splash of a liquid, and the sound of him drinking made their way through the mic. A casual clearing of the throat signaled he was about to speak.

“There will be enough guns and ammunition arriving,” he began in a quiet voice that was building with intensity with every word, “and when it does, we will each get what we paid for and we can go back to our cities.”  
“This is your guy we got coming,” said the deep voiced man, “You better believe I am counting every last item I paid for to make sure it is all there.”  
“You are welcome to it, but I am not going to sit here and be insulted by any of you as we wait. One more word spoken against my business partner and I will remove your tongues. Are we clear?” the man spoke with venom and fire but he never raised his voice, “I relish the silence, to be honest.”

Oliver felt a chill roll up his spine but he knew he would have to confront this erstwhile army in order stop their weapons from hitting the streets of his city.

“Overwatch? Do you have any way of locating the truck?” he said quietly.  
“I think so. Give me one minute,” she responded.

“Look,” said the Southern man, calmer now and a bit more focused, “we all just want to get out of Star City. Nothing against you or your man, we just don’t want to get caught by the vigilante.”  
“Diaz, for all of his shortcomings, had been able to reduce that threat,” snickered the man from the Midwest.  
“He certainly did. But he missed the Green Arrow. His death was inevitable,” sighed the deep voiced man.  
“We’ll get him and the rest. We will be well equipped soon,” the quiet man said.

“Green Arrow? I think I’ve located it,” Felicity said quickly, “I’ve sent the information to the SCPD. They are mobilizing now. I sent you the layout for the warehouse”  
“Good. Overwatch? I’m going in,” he said while studying the information she had sent him. There was a flash of lightning and distant rumble of thunder, Oliver looked up to see how far away the storm was, then was across the roof and down the ladder.

Felicity had fallen silent but he knew she was listening and watching. He wasn’t about to let that stop him from what he needed to do to stop these men. Felicity had nabbed the truck, but it was up to him to nab the men.

The door that had been jimmied open was his point of entry. Moving fast and staying low, he used the stacks of goods to conceal his movements in the dim overhead light. The men were talking about the different ways of funneling drugs into their cities and how they would mobilize their gangs to maintain their territory.

“I need to call in my men soon,” said the deep voice.  
“Same. The exchange shouldn’t take long,” drawled the Southerner.

“Green Arrow? The police have the truck.”

Notching a flash bang arrow, Oliver took aim and let it loose so that it landed in the centre of the grouping of men. It was powerful enough to knock three of them unconscious, leaving him two to deal with. He liked his odds.

Oliver leapt into the action, cutting through the smoke, a solid shadow filled with fury and a righteousness that came from years of training and violence. He was the embodiment of everything that had been done to him, the manifestation of scars and wounds long since healed. When he put on the Green Arrow suit and met men like this head on, he wasn’t just meting out justice, he was setting right all the wrongs of his past.

The first man went down without so much as a whimper. Oliver landed a blow to his jaw and he crumpled like a house of cards. It gave him momentary twinge of regret. He had been hoping for a fight. The last man standing was the one who would give him the challenge. He felt the punch coming before he saw it and ducked down out of the way.

Spinning round, he kicked the man’s legs out from under him and then delivered what should have been the final blow but his fist met air instead. The man was quick. Trained. Oliver turned and launched himself towards the man again, this time not taking him for granted.

He wasn’t a big man but he was solid. Fast. Oliver recognized the way he moved. He was trained like Diggle, Special Ops but with a street edge. Krav Maga. Who ever this man was, he had the tools to take Oliver out if he got the upper hand. There was no way that he could allow that to happen.

Ducking to his left to avoid a roundhouse kick, Oliver came up with a countering punch to the man’s back. It was a solid one that knocked the wind out of him but he was still able to swing around with an elbow that narrowly missed his head. Reaching up, Oliver grabbed the man’s arm in an elbow lock and landed a right cross to his jaw. With a quick and hard move, he snapped the man’s arm, causing him to scream, and then flipped him over his shoulder.

The man landed heavily on his back and while he had the advantage, Oliver landed the finishing blow to the man’s face, knocking him out. Working fast, he secured the men with restraints and then made sure Felicity was able to see each of their faces clearly on the camera. Before the police arrived, he was able to investigate the table they had been standing around.

“Overwatch? Are you seeing this?” he asked.  
“I am...scan as much as you can,” she ordered.

Falling silent, Oliver began the task of scanning the sheets of paper in front of him. Page after page of schematics for the assembling of a new type of rocket launcher, individual pages of their large scale gun purchases, and a table that was only initials and numbers that he couldn’t decipher. Whoever these men were, they had a lot of money, a tremendous amount of clout and had all of their city’s police departments outgunned.

“Green Arrow, the police are one minute out,” Felicity’s voice came over the comm unit, clipped and neutral.  
“Roger that. Leaving now.”

Retrieving his arrow, Oliver made his way out of the warehouse and back up to the rooftop of the building down across the way. He could see the police coming but from his vantage point, he could see a garage door opening and five vans getting ready to take off at high speed. He smiled to himself as he drew three arrows from his quiver that had the capacity to level the playing field.

“Green Arrow, whatever you have planned, do it now,” Felicity said quietly. It warmed his heart to hear her anticipate and predict his behaviour that way. She knew him too well.

Drawing the arrows back, Oliver took aim and let them fly. Each tip was loaded with C4. The impact of them, on the first, third and last van, triggered an explosion. The first van flipped and rolled sideways, blocking the second van, which crashed into it. The third van took a direct hit, blowing out the engine and windshield. The fourth van swerved to avoid the second van and slammed into a warehouse wall. The fifth van fared just as well as the third. The arrow exploded the engine, sending the van into a death spiral over the edge of the pier.

Oliver had managed to take them all out from the roof. He watched dazed men exit the vans, all were bloodied and broken. But still he felt that itch, that need to engage in some kind of physical confrontation. It was the buildup of stress and tension, of not understanding why the slaughter in the boat happened, who those people were and why Felicity had been targeted.

When he was uncertain and shaken, he sought out violence. It wasn’t something he was proud of, and had yet to really talk through with Felicity, but it settled his nerves and made him feel useful and human. With one final look back at the dock, Oliver made his way silently away from the area. He knew where to go to find what he needed.

“Green Arrow, where are you headed?” Felicity asked.  
“Down to the Glades. Just for half an hour or so. To see what’s going on,” he said evasively.  
“You know what I am thinking, don’t you?”  
“I’ll be careful. Promise.”

It took him ten minutes on his new Ducati to reach the Glades. The moon had traveled across the sky, meaning it was well after midnight and he would need to head back to the bunker. Felicity would be waiting but not in any kind of good humour. Without physical backup, he was vulnerable but not defenseless. Especially not here where violence was the answer to most disagreements and arguments, whether they happened in bars, grocery stores or, most devastatingly, in the homes of its remaining citizens.

“Green Arrow, I’m giving you exactly twenty minutes to find what you are looking for,” Felicity said, her voice carefully neutral and controlled.  
“That seems reasonable,” he said with a small smile.  
“Ok, get to it. Overwatch out.”

He knew she was watching but he heard the subtle warning in her tone. She was only willing to go so far to entertain him and his propensity for acting alone. Oliver looked down at the dark and lonely streets beside the seedy bars and strip clubs and waited. It was only a matter of time before something happened.

A loud crashing sound, like something large being thrown against garbage cans, rose up to him from the alley behind his position. In almost total silence, he crossed the roof and found a vantage point where he could see what was going on without being seen. He expected to find a bar fight, men inflicting violence on each other, something testosterone fueled and angry.

What he saw was two skilled fighters, each with a distinct style, systematically beating each other to a pulp. He felt like a spectator at a professional mixed martial arts fight. He was almost going to leave them to their own mutually assured destruction until he saw the duffel bag on the ground and the stacks of money falling out of it. Oliver notched an arrow and let it fly. It ignited on impact. Turning untold thousands of dollars to ash.

Both men froze and then turned their attention to the rooftop, searching for him. With a smile, Oliver quickly fired an arrow across the alley and into the building across the way. It was one of his trick arrows with a braided nylon rope attached to one end and the other attached to him. He was down it in a few seconds, detaching it with a sharp tug.

The two men were ready for him and he for them. This was what he had been waiting all night for: the opportunity to use his skills and work the stress and tension out of his body. The two men were furious, their outrage growing as the money burned. He could feel their rage swirling in the air around him. He allowed its current to pull him in.

The man on his left was tall, well built man and young, most likely in his 20’s. He was preparing to go low with a leg sweep while the man to his right, a small, lithe man of indeterminate age, looked as though he were preparing to go high with a roundhouse kick.

Neither man landed their intended blows. Oliver allowed his body and mind to work as a unit, a weapon, and leapt high, leaving only air where his body should have been. It was in the split second before landed that he reacted physically to their assault. Turning only slightly, he lashed out with his bow, gripped tightly in his right hand, and knocked the smaller man back. This gave him the chance to focus his attention on the larger man who was already moving back into striking distance.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of of something silvery and sharp. Under his hood, Oliver smiled and narrowed his eyes. This was about to become the action he was looking for, the level of physical and mental engagement he needed. With a quick flick of his wrist, Oliver threw a flash bang in between the two men and from there unleashed his attack.

His mind went into automatic. Every movement was smooth, purposeful and precisely aimed to cause the most damage. He wasn’t aiming for lethal but at the same time, if one of the men died, he wouldn’t feel any remorse whatsoever. It was in this mindset that he rained blow after blow to their faces and bodies. He broke the smaller man’s arms and jaw in a series of brutal strikes as he disarmed him.

The larger man was more of a challenge but even he fell, screaming, as Oliver found his weak spots, learned the pattern of his punches and then dismantled him one blow or kick at a time. It was when he landed a powerful sidekick to the man’s thigh that fight ended. There was a loud, dense snap and then a keening wail that seemed to rise up from the bottom of the large man’s soul. He collapse to the ground and screamed, holding his leg, trying to push his femur back into his body. Blood welled and then spurted from the wound.

“Use your tie as a tourniquet,” growled Oliver, “the police are on the way.”  
“Green Arrow, I’ve also called for EMTs.” Felicity said, her voice quiet and sad, “See you in twenty.”

He heard the soft click of her turning off the comms on her end. It was like a gong being struck inside his head. She had watched every second of his violently brutal takedown of the two men. Neither one had landed a blow, and he wasn’t out of breath, but each punch or kick he had landed had inflicted damage. Broken bones, gaping wounds and a criminal enterprise disrupted with the loss of stack of money and what looked like bricks of cocaine.

He felt no regret, only a grim satisfaction and sense of calm.

“YOU BROKE MY LEG! MY FUCKING LEG!” screamed the large man. Agony was laced through every word.  
“You are lucky I didn’t break more,” snarled Oliver.  
“My boss is gonna kill you,” he half moaned, half laughed, “all that money...someone will pay.”  
“You better hope it isn’t you,” Oliver growled.

The two men continued to yell, each word echoing up the street. Finally, the smaller man stopped, slipping into unconsciousness but the larger man continued to rail at Oliver. Threatening him with retaliation and death. His voice rising to a shrill, weak scream as the pain took over him. Sirens wailed in response, his signal to leave, but he could hear the sound of voices and footsteps echoing down the deserted street. Wheeling around, Oliver unleashed a vicious right hook to the large man’s face, silencing him even as his men were looking to support him.

With one last look over his shoulder, Oliver grabbed the end of the nylon rope and used it to pull himself up to a dangling fire escape ladder. In all, he had spent maybe eight minutes fighting the men and it had rejuvenated him. He felt a sense of purpose flooding him, like in the early days of his mission as the Hood.

As he rode his Ducati back towards the bunker, he thought about what Felicity must have seen. The quickness in how he was able to size up the men and then mount an attack that they were unable to defend against. But she also saw the violence, the brutality, the rawness of how he stomped, kicked, and punched the men into broken, bloody creatures that bore little resemblance to the men they had been at the start of the night.

She had seen it all.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the garage next to the office building above the bunker and then immediately through a hidden door that only opened when he was within five feet of it. There was a hidden sensor that would send a signal out to one built into his suit and Ducati. Felicity had worked with Cisco to create the system after the events that followed Diaz, including all of those killed from the team and on the police force.

Storing his helmet, Oliver took a moment to look at his hands and balled them into fists. His gloves creaked under the tension and he inspected his knuckles, looking for cuts in the leather, blood or debris. He would need to be sure they were thoroughly cleaned before using them again and before Felicity saw the state they were in. He had beaten the men, hard.

“Felicity!” he called out into the dimly lit bunker as he crossed over to the case he stored and cleaned his suit. He unzipped the top part of his suit and was in the process of taking it off when he realized she hadn’t answered him.

“Felicity?” he called again, uncertainty creeping into his voice, “Where are you?”

Quickly scanning the room, he saw the note on his weapons table. She was up in the courtyard waiting. Looking upward, he sighed. She would only leave the safety of the bunker if she was trying to get away from the violence of an op or him. Tonight, he suspected, it was both.

After securing his suit and grabbing a quick shower, Oliver headed up to see his wife. She was wrapped in a blanket, staring up at the stars. He stood at the french doors and watched her under the soft faery lights. They had avoided this space at night for a long time after the violence Diaz had brought to their doorstep but once Felicity built a battery based on the Palmer Technology implant in her spine and connected their entire electrical system to it, she had begun to spend more time in their garden.

“So, I guess you saw,” he said softly. He crossed over to the chaise lounge she was on and sat carefully on the end.  
“I did,” she sighed.  
“I was safe, Felicity.”  
“You were determined, Oliver, you were determined to fight,” she said simply.  
“I needed it...I can’t really explain it…,” he was looking at his hands as he spoke, trying to find the words to describe the primal need that drove him on nights like this.  
“Try, Oliver, because if you aren’t going to call Roy and Thea back while Diggle is across the country with Lyla, you need to try,” she said encouragingly, “Please.”

Oliver studied her for a moment. Her eyes were wide, unclouded and bright. She genuinely wanted him to try to explain it to her.

“Well, if I am going to do this, I am going to do it wrapped up in that blanket with you,” he said, moving under the blanket to join her.  
“Just don’t hog it,” she laughed.  
“Never,” he smiled, kissing her cheek quickly and soundly.  
“You need to figure out how to be...agreeable to not stepping out into the shadows,” she said seriously, turning into his embrace.  
“I need that raw energy to get through nights like tonight,” he explained.  
“Oliver, you were savage tonight,” she said, using his chest to prop herself up.  
“Felicity, the last few days have been...not easy. When I feel threatened, or anxious or...pushed into something where I might not have all the control I want or you and William are threatened...you know I need to work that out physically,” he explained quietly, “I can’t sit idly by and hope the problem fixes itself.”  
“You can’t fix everything or protect me unless I want you to,” she said softly, “You can’t fix anything if you get hurt out there and I need you here so we can figure out who killed all those people, personalized that boat and sent me that letter. I can’t solve this on my own.”

Oliver looked down at her. She was looking at the garden, avoiding his eyes, which she only did when she was uncertain or nervous with him. He pulled her closer, feeling the tension in her body. They had been through enough together that he needed to speak the words even if it cracked him apart to do it.

“When I was on Lian Yu, I learned how to move though my life in a way that allowed me to be invisible. I could kill without breaking a sweat. You know that,” he said quietly, slowly trailing his fingers up and down her bare arm, “When I feel powerless or I unable to control my surroundings...it’s like I live in my own shadow. I take a step back mentally and let myself go on automatic pilot. It’s the only way I can survive.”

Felicity had relaxed as he spoke. He realized that she wasn’t looking for an apology or an excuse. She simply wanted him to speak out loud what was driving him into violent encounters alone and how he made space within him now for those primal urges. He looked up at the sky, the small patch they could see, and watched the universe travel past.

“When I was a kid, when Raisa was the only adult in the house who paid attention to me,” he clarified, “I would sometimes go up to the third floor of our house, manor, whatever you want to call it, and spend days up there, pretending I was somewhere else.”  
“Oliver Queen, you would live...in your imagination?” she teased.  
“Well, my imagination in a mansion with a dumb waiter that would bring up food and supplies,” he chuckled, “Sometimes Tommy would join me, but mostly I was on my own. I lived a life of solitude a long time before I was stranded on Lian Yu.”  
“What changed all that? From when you were a child alone in that impossibly huge mansion?” she asked softly.  
“Puberty,” he said, stifling a yawn as he spoke.

Her laugh rang out, bouncing off the fragrant walls of their garden. If there was one thing he loved about Felicity, it was that she never giggled. She laughed. Full bodied and full of life. It was music, a signal, it was so often pure joy. She radiated with energy when she laughed and he looked forward to when it would flow around them more often than not.

He’d never told anyone of how he would isolate as a child, effectively camping out in the attic of Queen Mansion. His parents, for as much as they loved him and Thea, could be stifling and controlling when he was a child. As he got older and more independent, those bonds loosened and he had cracked out like a whip across Starling’s social scene.

He wasn’t proud of who he had been, or who he became during his years in exile, but he was fully embracing the man he was now. Every day presented new challenges in how to navigate this new reality, but Felicity made it easier and more rewarding then he could ever hope to express to her.

“Just be sure, if you are going to go out there alone, that you exercise caution,” she requested, a layer of flint and steel in her voice, “Otherwise, I am calling Roy and Thea.”  
“Promise,” he agreed, kissing the top of her head, “Now how about we go in. I am starting to get cold.”  
“I got word from the Coroner’s Office,” she whispered, “At noon tomorrow.”  
“Then we should get some rest,” he said, sorrow filling the spaces between the words, “And tackle all things related to the boat, the letter, all of it tomorrow. Clear headed and rested. Deal?”  
“Deal.”

With a sigh, Felicity sat up and looked around the garden, the faery lights glimmering softly off her glasses, illuminating her as the shadows moved in the breeze.

“I am really happy we are able to still use this space,” she murmured.

Oliver ran his hands through her hair, cupping her face gently so that she would look at him. Her eyes were troubled, distant but warmed as she studied him. He felt something ominous and dark coming their way but for now was glad to be here with her, safe in their newly reinforced bunker. That familiar surge of energy was building, running through him as though he was a circuit, a conduit.

“Have I ever told you how it feels to watch you fight?” she asked suddenly.  
“No,” he said, surprised, “I’ve never asked how it feels because I don’t like thinking about you watching that.”  
“Well, I do. I can anticipate every move you make because I have been watching you for years. Oliver, I trust that you will come back every night but then I watch you...beat the living shit out of men bigger and stronger than you…,” she paused to look at him, pulling his eyes to hers, “I feel fear, sadness, and pride...you move so fast sometimes, and with such intense power, you really are a superhero.”  
“Pride?” he asked, playing with a strand of her hair.  
“I just called you a superhero, Oliver,” she smiled, running her hand down his bare arm.  
“Well, that goes without saying,” he shrugged.

Felicity poked him in the ribs and laughed before turning serious again. “Oliver, on nights like tonight, I know you are going to come home but I worry that some small, fundamental part of you...won’t.”

And there it was. She knew he had the skill to make it out alive and come home to her, but she was most afraid of him sacrificing his humanity in order to be the man under the hood.

“Felicity,” he began softly, “it is your voice in my ear that keeps me anchored to the moment, not the events, not that acts, but the very moment. I know who I am when I go out there and who I am when I am here. When the time comes, and the time will come, where you don’t want to be in this place or the voice in my ear, I will gladly join you in whatever that future holds.”  
“Do you mean that? Really mean that?” she asked, hope shining from her eyes.  
“I do. I want to live my life, the one I get to decide on, with you,” he said simply.  
“I look forward to that day,” she smiled.  
“Klamath isn’t going to decorate itself,” he teased.  
“It isn’t but neither, my urban muted brown palette loving superhero, will you.”  
“You don’t like greys and navy blue?”

Felicity side eyed him and got up, pulling the blanket with her.

“I am not going to dignify that with a response,” she said dismissively as she folded the green, knitted blanket.  
“Just easy up on the pink. That is literally all I ask,” he said, ducking to avoid the folded afghan.  
“You are lucky you are cute.”  
“I have one more bit of bad news…”  
“What?” she asked, both curious and concerned.  
“I made a mistake about galas...I have one more charity one to attend,” he said carefully, ready to bolt should things get heated.  
“Oliver…,” she said warningly, “Just the one?”  
“Just the one.”  
“You owe me,” she grumbled as she made her way out of the garden.

Oliver laughed as they headed towards the elevator, the tension of the night finally filtering out of their system as the doors closed behind them. In the bright, white light Oliver noticed the bluish smudges under Felicity’s eyes. How she looked just a little more tired than usual and how she chewed unconsciously on her bottom lip. In his rush to burn off adrenaline, he didn’t take the time to fully appreciate the impact the Havenrock letter was having on her.

“Felicity,” he said softly as the doors on the elevator opened with a quiet hiss, “Look at me.”  
“Hmmm?” she hummed, distracted.  
“Look at me,” he said again.

When she did, he saw it. That dark flame, the glimmer of a shadow in her eyes. The cloud of Havenrock, the one she fought so hard to push back, was a mushroom cloud, bursting out of her. Then he noticed the dried tear tracks down her cheeks and the way her face was a little paler despite all the time in the summer sun.

She blinked and walked out of the elevator, saying, “Home sweet home.”  
“Just for a bit,” he quietly said, reaching for her hand as they made their way back to the fortified apartment.  
“I installed those special lights to mimic daylight, so it won’t feel so institutional,” she tried to say brightly.  
“I rather like it,” he observed as they walked into the living room. The light had a pinkish hue to it, not unlike sunset on a warm summer night.  
“Are you hungry?” she asked softly.  
“I grabbed a smoothie and a couple of energy bars between showering and changing.”  
“Is that enough?” she asked, dubious given his nightly activity.  
“It is. I think I want to check out all the improvements in this apartment,” he said, distracted by the kitchen. Felicity had created a mini masterpiece. It had all the gadgets his heart could desire. A true chef’s kitchen.

“Felicity, this kitchen…,” he murmured in awe.  
“Let’s check out the rest,” she laughed.

She had helped plan the entire space. There were three bathrooms and three large bedrooms down one wing, all of them with the special lights and in colours that would reflect and absorb it. They were insulated and soundproofed. She had thought of everything, every comfort and accommodation. If they ever needed to house the team here, at least there would be privacy in amidst the trauma.

But then she took him by the hand and lead him down the wing constructed specifically for them. The master bedroom was enormous but full of light and warmth. The bed was in the centre of the room but not tight against the wall. A screen was behind it, reminiscent of Nanda Parbat, but the light wasn’t candle light. It was whiter, dimmer and calmer.

“This is perfect,” he smiled.  
“It is,” she mused, slipping out of her shoes and letting her hair down.

For a moment, he was speechless. With just such a simple move, she took his breath away.

“Come sit with me a minute,” he said, lowering his tall frame down onto the small love seat that she had positioned across from the bed.  
“What’s up?” she asked, stifling a yawn as she sat next to him.  
“My concern for you.”  
“Oliver,” she said dismissively, taking his hands in hers, “I am fine.”  
“No, you aren’t. I can see the tears,” he insisted, gently tracing the long since dried path of one down her cheek.  
“I…,” she started, intending to deflect his concern, but caught the look he was giving her and sighed, only the truth would do, “I don’t think there will ever be enough time in the universe to completely erase the pain of Havenrock.”  
“I know,” he said gently, “But don’t hide it from me. Okay? The last time...I almost lost you.”  
“You will never lose me, Oliver,” her voice was low as she held back tears, “The letter caught me by surprise is all.”  
“I love you, Felicity,” he said simply, the words bursting out of him in response to the way she held herself so closely in check.  
“I love you,” she said tenderly, her heart reaching back to his.

They sat in silence, hands entwined and let all talk of the night slowly end. It had become their habit to not bring the violence of their world into a place where they shared tenderness, desire, love and passion. It was how they healed, where they healed. Instead of chasing the person that hunted them, they instead turned towards each other, pushing the unknown away.

Felicity had slipped closer to him, working her hands up his arms, finding the smooth, tender skin between the scars. He smiled at her and delighted in the blush that rose up her cheeks. He loved that she didn’t giggle but was almost obscenely pleased he could still make her blush.

“You are staring, Oliver,” she said almost shyly.  
“Can you blame me,” he replied, his voice soft and unfocused.

Before she could speak again, he leaned across the distance between them and kissed her, softly and gently. Like the first real kiss they shared in Nanda Parbat and it ripped the breath from his lungs. It fed his heart and soul. It healed the wounds so hidden only he knew how to find them. He heard her small sigh and wondered if his touch had the same effect on her.  
Felicity had worked her hands under his shirt and he felt her fingers tighten on his chest. Oliver felt time slip as her tongue licking past his lips. Once again he reaffirmed his belief that not a single thing, person or event could rip them apart.

They separated just enough to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together, their eyes closed but Oliver was keenly aware of Felicity, her body vibrating under his hands. This was more of the energy that had built up during the night, between the discovery in the river and the discovery of the letter. The desire that was forming would work off the tension and uncertainty and he welcomed the pause to reshape the energy in order to create a space of intimacy and love.

Standing up, Oliver pulled her to her feet and lead her to a bed neither of them had slept in yet. It was large and covered with a deep green duvet and enough pillows to cover several beds. When she was first paralysed, she had developed a love of large, soft pillows to keep her sitting upright. Now it was a habit with her to buy them and cover their bed and couches with pillows of all sizes and colours.

She smiled up at him and reached for a small control button next to the bed. Instantly, the bedroom shifted in colour and he felt transported back to Positano, when they sat and watched the sunset. Staying under the pergola until the last indigo rays had been swallowed by the sea. It was magical and now that same light filled the room.

“You are a marvel,” he mused.  
“Oliver?” she pulled his focus to by gently cupping his face in her small hands.  
“Hmmm?” he pulled her in close, his lips hovering a fraction of an inch from hers.  
“If that fundraiser goes late, you will regret it.”  
“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he chuckled and closed the distance between them.

His kiss was greedy, demanding and passionate. They stood next to the bed, surrounded by light, and fed the hunger that existed without end between them. Felicity pushed her hands under his shirt, seeking his skin, and he pushed his hands in her hair. When his tongue pushed past her lips, she slid her hands down his back and around to the front of his pants, stroking him through the thin fabric.

“Follow me,” he whispered, his voice ragged and low.

Felicity looked up at him, mesmerized, her cobalt blue eyes dark and full desire, and followed him without question. He wasn’t waiting but he wasn’t rough. Instead, without breaking eye contact, he slid her shirt up and off her body, then ran his hands down, fingertips trailing over her arms, raising goosebumps all over her skin.

Lowering his head, he locked his lips onto her neck and felt the way her body shook. With tenderness and confidence, he took complete control. Being with her, he had allowed himself to explore the limits of how erotic and sensual he could be and together they had discovered that particular well ran deep. It was a delight they had yet to tire of sharing. He knew that despite all of the things he had done, the acts of violence and killing, that he continually surprised her with the way he loved and adored her.

“Take off your shoes,” she whispered, kissing him gently between each word.  
“Take off yours,” he murmured against the softness of her lips.  
“Oh so demanding tonight,” she teased, the tip of her tongue slipping between his lips.  
“Felicity,” he said in a growl, “stop talking.”

She was laughing as he kissed her again. Carefully, he undid her bra, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Felicity helped him remove his shirt, her hands running over his mottled flesh. With her lips pressed to the scars on his chest, she stroked his cock until it was hard under the thin fabric of his sweatpants. With purpose, she pulled them over his hips and let them slide down his legs. As he kicked free of them, she gently cupped his balls through his underwear with one hand and stroked him to state past hard, where pain and pleasure mixed to an exquisite blend.

“Felicity….” he said in a low voice, “your touch could wake me from the dead.”  
“I love you, Oliver,” she hummed, her lips against his.

He felt the push of her breasts, her nipples hard in the cool air of their subterranean bedroom, against his chest as she took a deep breath, steadying herself under his hands. Even when she was allowing him the space to be in control, he always allowed her to guide him. He stepped past her and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning her to face him. Looking into her eyes, he slipped his fingers under her sweats waistband and pulled both them and her underwear down and off her body.

She was almost unnaturally beautiful but that was true no matter the day or state of dress. Her skin, now marked by the violence that so often touched their world, glowed in the dim light. He had explored every inch of her with his hands, lips and tongue. He knew the taste of her and the way she sounded when she was surrendering to the pleasure he was providing. Now, as he gazed at her, all those memories seemed to flee, leaving him able to discover her anew.

They had stopped speaking. Instead, they communicated through touch and small gestures. She helped him remove his underwear, freeing his erect cock, throbbing and ready for her. His breathing was shallow but steady, he felt like he was meditating, controlling his body as he waited for her to make her move. He had realized quite some time ago that he no longer saw the faces of the men who had left their marks on his body when she touched them. He only saw her and felt her tender love through her touch, how it erased the pain and washed away the trauma held in the scar tissue.

Tapping the centre of his chest, she gently pushed him onto his back. Before he complied, now realizing he had acquiesced and shifted control to her, he kissed her, sucked her bottom lip and welcomed her tongue into his mouth. Oliver pulled her close and then slowly lowered himself onto the bed. He kept his eyes open and looked at her, feeling his heart fill to the brim with love and longing. Felicity stroked his face, reveling in the feel of his coarse beard and smooth skin, she had told him that she loved the way his beard felt, how he melted into her and welcomed her caress.

With a small smile, she straddled his lap and slowly, smoothly, pulled him into her body. A small sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes. He gripped her hips and waited. He could feel the way her body tensed as she moved up and down his cock, keeping a slow but steady rhythm. The heat continued to build wildly between them and when she started to move in a sinuous pattern, he groaned and flipped them over so she was on her back. This was one of his secret loves, he was able to feel her entire body under his and how completely she was surrendering to the pleasure and ecstasy they were sharing. Especially when it was accompanied by how she would let lust and desire take over and he thrust hard and fast into her.

Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she clung to him, allowing her to feel the way the muscles in his back moved as he pushed her towards a peak he knew was going to shatter her. Oliver was relentless as he let something primal and raw overtake him, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. His kisses, the way he used his strength to thrust hard inside her, and the way he murmured encouragement and love in her ears, all of it pushed him into a delicate, grey space where all he could hear was her cries of ecstasy. He was disconnected from the world around them yet calm and focused on Felicity.

Every nerve in his body was firing and when she climaxed, with such force that her back arched off the bed, Oliver lost the control he had been struggling to keep. His cock pulsed and throbbed inside her, his hands tighten on her hips and his own orgasm ripped through his body. Her body tightened body around him as he emptied inside her in a series of hard, deep thrusts.

“God, Felicity,” he mumbled into her neck, “I have no idea what came over me.”  
“I think I know,” she mused quietly as she felt the aftershocks of their orgasms filtering out of their bodies, “and I needed the outlet, too.”  
“I love you, Ms. Smoak,” he said, gently kissing her under her ear.  
“I love you, Mr. Queen,” she said with a smile.  
“We should work out our tensions like this more often,” he murmured, slowly lowering himself beside her, enjoying the sight of her in the soft, golden light.  
“We would never get any actual work done if we did,” she chuckled softly, turning over to face him, “but right now I am cold and thinking a hot shower would feel good.”  
“Well...I do need to check out the bathroom…,” he mused, knowing she would roll her eyes at his unspoken fixation on the secrets of unseen bathrooms.

He was not disappointed. Felicity had finished her shower long before he even began his. She had recreated the bathroom from their villa in Positano. Only this time the bathtub had no window to look out over the Tyrrean Sea. Somehow, she had created a space that radiated with light. He could almost smell the sweet salt air as he ran his hands over the smooth surface of the tile.

“Felicity,” he said softly as he climbed under the covers to join her in bed, “you should win awards for your creative design.”  
“I thought you might like it,” she said sleepily, turning to snuggle into his side.  
“I do,” he murmured happily, kissing the top of her head.  
“Mmmnight,” she said through a yawn and fell deeply asleep next to him.

Sleep didn’t come so quickly for Oliver, which was in keeping on these kinds of nights. It would take him a few more minutes to relax into the strange new bed. The room was quiet but he missed the ambient noise that would rise from the streets below their top floor condo. He missed the ability to wander to their bedroom window and see the sky. Neither one of them was built for living below ground for long. He could only hope that they solved this latest mystery sooner rather than later.

The lights in the room had subtly faded, the golden glow giving way to deeper hues, his eyes slowly closed, sleep finally making itself known to him. His final fleeting thought of the night was one full of peace and a sense of comfort even as the storm was gathering close to centre of their world.

The next morning, when the sun had crested the edge of the world, unseen by their eyes, Oliver delicately kissed Felicity awake. Taking his time, he traced his desire over her skin with the tip of his tongue, feeling the heat of her body surge as the tempo of her breathing increased. He lost himself to her velvety touch, the way she opened herself to him, trusting he would take care of her. He marveled at the complexity of her love for him, of the honest way she took pleasure from how much, and the way, he loved her.

He would never get tired of how she felt, wrapped around him, pushing him past his ability to remain tethered to this world. Mornings like this had become a ritual for them and he breathed his most reverently held desires across the silky expanse of her body while she searched his for the remnants of his sacred, untouched flesh. Oliver remembered once looking into her eyes, the light worn down by grief, and thinking he would lay down his life for her in order to light the fire that normally resided in them anew.

Now, as the artificial light ushered in the morning, he saw that fire in her eyes and felt the heat in her gaze. That morning, instead of dwelling in the suffering that so normally surrounded them, they sought to create a touchstone, a memory, that would hold them through what was to come.


	6. The Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I introduce a new character in this chapter that is a familiar face in the comics but I have re-invented him here. He is an evil, evil man who has a connection to Felicity that will bear out at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Felicity puts most of the pieces of the puzzle together, finding out the identity of the Slayer but before anything can come of it, the worst thing that can happen - happens.
> 
> Before we get there, we get some easy, sexy moments with Oliver and Felicity. All those tiny moments that mean so much are dwelt on. But the ending...WHOAH.

Chapter Four: The Slayer

_There was no time_

_to think the options through._

_She only needed to survive._

I

Felicity moved through the hallways of City Hall, looking for Oliver amidst the press of bodies near his office doors. It was almost time for the release of the coroner’s report on the bodies in the boat. She was meeting him early to get a full understanding of how many lives they were talking about. This would not be an easy meeting or press conference for the the Star City. Unfathomable violence had ended twelve lives for no discernible reason.

Quietly, she slipped past the crowd and headed down a side hallway to Oliver’s office door. Through it, she spotted her husband. He was standing still in front of the large floor to ceiling window at the end of his office. The Coroner stood across from him, a folder in his hands. For all the commotion outside of his door, neither man made any move towards the door or spoke. Raising her hand to knock, Felicity paused, she could feel the silence pushing at the door. Whatever the report said, it must be worse than they expected.

With a soft double rap on the door to announce her arrival, Felicity walked into a room thick with tension, sorrow, shock and a dark undercurrent of anger. At first, neither man noticed her. Each was lost in their own thoughts as they absorbed the information in the thin white folder held so tightly in the Coroner’s hand.

“I take it the results are worse than we thought?” she asked quietly.

Oliver turned around, surprise registering in his eyes as he hadn’t heard her come in. He was ashen in the noon sun. Concerned, she made her way to him, keeping his eyes locked to hers the entire journey from door to desk. He reached for her hand before she had made it halfway to him. He and the Coroner exchanged looks before the older man excused himself but not before leaving the folder on Oliver’s desk.

“Felicity…,” he began but she waved him off, knowing he was going to try and shield her from the details that only he and the Coroner knew.  
“Tell me,” was all she said.

Oliver lead her to the couch in the alcove across from his desk and once they were comfortably seated, he did.

Inside the hull, the bodies of five adult men, four adult women and three children had been left in various stages of decomposition and dismemberment. They had found only parts of each body, not a single one was there whole. In a few cases, a sharp instrument had been used to remove limbs from torsos, in some cases it appeared as though the bodies had been ripped apart by a large animal. The wounds were ragged, gaping and viciously inflicted.

The final detail, the one Oliver stumbled over the hardest, was that all of the victims had been alive when they were dismembered. All of them. They had bled, most likely screamed, and died in pieces. Including the children. And it was that part that caused them both to sit silently and rethink what they suspected of their adversary.

“Oliver, if he is capable of that…,” she started and trailed off.  
“He is capable of anything,” he finished for her.

She studied his profile as they sat in silence. His jaw was set like granite. His eyes narrowed and were focused on a point far, far away. She could see the rage simmering under his skin, the need to make someone pay no matter the cost and at the moment, she was in complete agreement. Whoever did this had lost all grounds for mercy.

“Have you heard anything back about the fibre glass used in the boat’s construction?” he asked quietly.  
“Not yet but I think I narrowed down the likely suspect. A company in Oregon that has been working to perfect the technique on the Gambit,” she said, distracted and quiet.

Running through her mind were all the possibilities of how the people were murdered. Where they drugged? Did the killer do all of the slaughter in one night? Why would they kill children in such a violent, horrific and painful way? There was no way to answer her queries which was leading her imagination to fill in the blanks.

“I only hope that he drugged them,” Oliver said quietly, his voice tight with rage.  
“Do we know who these people were?” she asked, holding her voice steady.  
“Not yet but they did a Polymer...one of those tests on their DNA, looking to see if they can find out their relationships to each other.”  
“A Polymer Chain Reaction test...those results should be in tomorrow. They are quick tests,” she said, feeling slightly ill at the thought of a child watching their family be rendered limb from limb, “What are you going to tell the press?”  
“Only the barest of details,” he answered, slapping his thighs and getting up off the couch, “Wait here. I’ll only be a minute.”

Oliver crossed his office to the public door that was always locked. She watched as he straightened his tie, squared his shoulders, unlocked the door and stepped through it. The rise of voices from the hallway was deafening as dozens of reporters yelled their questions at him, hoping for an answer.

The Chief of Police joined him in the scrum, shaking Oliver’s hand, looking grim and determined as they moved to the press conference room. The reporters followed along behind them, like a school of fish. Together they would address the swarm of reporters from all over the state as news of the yacht full of dismembered bodies was making national news.

There was no way to sugar coat what they found and now they were making a public appeal for any information regarding any missing families in a three state area. Someone knew these people and now it was just a matter of getting the appeal out to get people looking and calling in.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her attention away from the closed circuit tv in the room. The live feed of the press conference was muted but she could see Oliver and the Chief were being peppered with questions, so she shifted her attention to the message on her phone.

An email from the company that created the fibre glass hull confirming they made it but not who they made it for. She smiled to herself and made plans to do a bit of hacking later that night. It was like they opened the door and welcomed her in to check things out. It wouldn’t take much for her to find her way in and find what she needed.

Glancing up at the tv, she watched as Oliver and the Chief wrapped up the press conference and waited for Oliver to rejoin her. It was lunch time, she was starving, and was suddenly feeling the urge to get to to the bunker to start her hacking sooner rather than later. They were so close to a name, even a false one, but it was a start.

“Well, that went better than I thought,” Oliver said when he entered the room.  
“Not too many questions asked that you couldn’t answer?”  
“The Press were surprisingly easily placated,” he said quietly, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.  
“Well, I have news,” she said, wiping her lipstick from his lips with her thumb, “I got confirmation from that fibreglass hull manufacturer. They confirmed they made it but not who they made it for so…”  
“You are going to go for a stroll through their files,” he finished for her.

All she did was smile before saying, “Yup but not here. I need to use my servers in the bunker.”  
“Do you really want to wait until tonight?”  
“I thought I’d head over there now,” she said with forced lightness, knowing he would protest.  
“Felicity,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “you know how I feel about you going out without me.”  
“Now you know how I feel every night you go out without backup. But I trust you,” she retorted, trying to keep the flint out of her voice.

Oliver stood back and observed her. She met his stare, not in defiance but as his equal. There was a secondary entrance that they used during the day. One that was hidden behind a false wall that was invisible to scans and any kind of infrared or ultraviolet light spectrum detection. It was as if the door, the wall and the elevator it all hid did not exist. She could get to it and be safe within five minutes of leaving the office and Oliver knew it.

“I get it and I know I can’t stop you but how about lunch first. Maybe something healthy and not Big Belly Burger-ish?” he said, extending a peace offering.  
“If you say kale salad, I will divorce you.”

He laughed and pulled her to her feet, “There is a luncheon in City Hall chambers I have to make an appearance at. Sandwiches and soup and dessert.”  
“I could go for some dessert,” she said with a wink.  
“Stop it,” he chuckled.

Lunch hit the spot and she managed to avoid all the small talk she so hated at these functions by eating everything in sight. She had a bad feeling that dinner was going to be very late and decided to throw caution to the wind and enjoy an extra slice of chocolate cake.

“I see you are enjoying the food,” Oliver teased.  
“Be quiet and let me enjoy this amazing cake,” she said between mouthfuls.  
“Do you want to wrap a piece to go?”  
“Do you want to sleep on the couch?” she asked sweetly as she finished her cake and left the conference room.

Oliver stifled a laugh behind his hand and followed her. She could hear him snickering behind her and had to stop herself from laughing. It was an elixir after the tension of the press conference and hearing the details of the bodies in the boat. They had both become immune to horror in their own ways and while the details were grotesque, Felicity knew they had each filed the information away in discrete compartments in their minds for discussion later in the day.

When they stepped into his office and closed the door on his staff, finding a small moment of privacy, she turned and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. He hummed against her lips, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him. She loved sharing this kind of casual intimacy with him, reveling in the tenderness of his kiss, the brush of his stubble on her cheeks.

“What was that for?” he asked quietly.  
“Do I need a reason?”  
“Never.”

They stood in a tight embrace until a knock on his door brought them crashing back to the present moment.

“Any lipstick?” he asked.

Felicity ran her thumb slowly over his lips, feeling a rush of heat over her skin, and shook her head. Oliver caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. His lips were soft, warm and she felt his breath under the kiss. Her heart was seized by a love so fierce, big and bright, she could scarcely breathe.

“You ok?” he asked, his concern giving way to barely disguised happy knowing.  
“Stop,” she laughed, “and get on with your day.”  
“You are going to go back to the bunker, aren’t you?”  
“Yes, Oliver, I am. I’ll text you as soon as I am safely in. OK?” she bargained.  
“Ok.”

Felicity smiled as he left his office. He had a habit of pulling her close when danger was seeking them out but it was suffocating and made her reckless. He was learning, bit by bit, to let her be, to trust her instincts and follow at a distance.

Collecting her things, she made her way out of City Hall and into the bright light of the afternoon sun. It was a quick walk to the parkade that doubled as a hidden entrance to their underground home. She took an indirect route though and made sure to double back more than once. Oliver had taught her well.

As soon as the door closed behind her, and the pneumatic lock was engaged, she pulled out her phone and texted Oliver. Not a sound could be heard in the bunker, save the clack of her heels over the concrete floor, and the lights were dimmed. It was eery and a bit unnerving, making her second guess her decision to leave the bright, busy Mayor’s office. Sometimes it was a comfort to be around others but her work this afternoon was best done away from secretaries and executive assistants.

What she needed were her servers, her slippers, coffee and comfortable clothes. It was always so chilly down here in the fall.

The company was easy to hack and she was able to locate the blueprints she was looking for and the bill of sale. The name on it was fake, as she suspected, but the address in Opal City was not. It had to be delivered somewhere and now she had a place to look.

The hours slipped by as she began a careful search through that city’s registries to see what she could find out about who owned the property, the surrounding properties and any associated businesses. She was so engrossed in her work, that she failed to hear the release of the lock on the door and Oliver’s entrance.

“Hey,” he called softly, pulling her attention to him.  
“Hey! I didn’t hear you come in,” she smiled, reaching for him.

He joined her at her station and leaned down for a quick kiss.

“What have you found?” he asked.  
“Well, the name on the bill wasn’t real but the address was...it’s in Opal City and definitely a front. But I spent the afternoon looking into all the surrounding properties and owners trying to find something, anything that we could go after here.”  
“And?” he asked, his voice hard and tight.  
“I am doing a background check now on two names that came up more than once. I think I may be onto something or someone,” she said, “His name is Jeffrey Coopersmith, or at least the deed on two adjacent properties have that name on them. He, however, is not a real person.”  
“How can we find out if he is or not?” Oliver mused.  
“Create a reason to find him. Have the Chief of Police send out a detective to Opal City find him him. When they can’t, then they have to speak to a contact in the Opal City police force. That will help drum him out.”  
“Did you hear what the Press are calling whoever committed the slaughter in the boat?” he asked quietly.  
“No, I didn’t. I hope it isn’t something gross.”  
“Bloody Rembrandt.”  
“You have got to be kidding me,” she groaned, “That is terrible!”  
“It really is,” he agreed with a weary sigh.

Felicity turned in her chair and looked at her husband. He looked tired but she could see his mind working.

“Oliver,” she said quietly, “what are you thinking?”  
“I think you know,” he said, his voice hard and dark.  
“We need someone to come back, Oliver. We have a new player trying to supply and arm all the gangs from here to Gotham plus the Slaughterer.”  
“You going to call him the Slaughterer?” Oliver asked with a twinkle in his eye.  
“Better than the other name,” she grumbled.

Oliver smiled at her and then said, “We can divide and conquer. Tonight is all about tracking down the new player.”  
“Ok. Where do you want to start?”  
“On the docks. I have a feeling,” he murmured, looking at her legs.  
“Oliver, my eyes are up here.”  
“But your legs are down there…”  
“One day, I am going to stop shaving my legs,” she muttered.  
“Don’t tease,” he said with a straight face.  
“So down at the docks, you are going to do exactly what?”  
“What I do best but not for long. Tomorrow is Friday and I would like to spend the evening with you,” he said softly.

A smile spread across her face despite her best intentions. She hated his solo act but at the moment it was their only option.

“But Friday is Star City’s busiest night,” she said quietly.  
“I can be ready to go pretty quickly considering where we live at the moment,” he chuckled.  
“Sneak.”

Oliver crossed to her, leaned down and kissed her cheek. She saw the warmth in his eyes and felt herself relax involuntarily. If he was going to do reconnaissance at the dock, she could spend the evening trying to track down two unsubs. She was contemplating sending a message to Roy and Thea but decided against it. Going behind Oliver’s back to bring his sister home was not a step she was willing to take.

“How long do you think you will be out?” she asked, running her hand down his arm.  
“Not long. I need to be in the office by 8 am tomorrow,” he said, his voice betraying his anxiousness.  
“Then I guess you better get going.”  
“Late dinner?”  
“Yes, please!” she agreed with gusto.

With a shake of his head, Oliver left her comm centre and headed to get ready for the night. It would take him at least an hour or more to check over his weaponry and get into his suit and Felicity was tired of sitting in the drafty bunker. Picking up her tablet and sweater, she wandered back to their temporary home and stretched out on the couch.

On a whim she set her system up to look for all Jeffrey Coppersmiths across the country, including any and all properties they owned, dates of birth and death and any relatives they might have. It was a long shot but she might be able to track a pattern of movement from one of them. It could help her identify which one was the one they were looking for. Then she could focus on maybe finding a lead on the new player in town.

She was scrolling through police reports from Central City when her eyes closed of their own volition and she faded into an easy, deep, dreamless slumber. Any time she could catch a few moments of sleep, she did. It was the perils of working day and night to protect an increasingly violent city.

“Hey, Felicity,” a voice pushed into her internal silence, “Time to wake up.”  
“Hmmmm…,” she mumbled in response, not quite ready to open her eyes.  
“You’ve been asleep for an hour,” Oliver said with a chuckle.  
“Are you heading out now?” she asked with a yawn.  
“I am. Here’s your comm unit,” he said, handing her the small earpiece.  
“Late dinner?”  
“Late dinner,” he agreed, kissed her cheek and was gone.

That evening, Oliver was only out for three hours. He prowled the docks, moving from rooftop to rooftop with the quickness and quietness of a cat. He watched, waited and took in all the information he could, sending her more than she could process in the short time he was on patrol. She was still working, feverishly, at her station when he came down the stairs to rejoin her.

“So what do you make of it all, Felicity?” he asked as he put his bow and quiver away.  
“I’m identifying all the faces you managed to get a clear shot of from the dock. I think I have it all mapped out,” she answered, pointing at another monitor.

Oliver joined her and studied what she had managed to pull together. It was everything she had on the five men from the night before. Their names, their businesses, their covers, their locations, literally their entire lives. He let out a low whistle of appreciation for her skill and efficiency.

“Felicity,” he said softly, “this is incredible.”  
“It is a start. Now maybe I can connect the men you’ve caught on tape to them and from there, I can start to pull their worlds apart. Starting with their bank accounts.”  
“This is one of those moments where I am both terrified and turned on by you, Felicity.”

Shaking her head, Felicity returned her attention to her console and continued her search of properties associated with the Slaughterer. She was determined to find something out before retiring for the night. Even if it meant missing watching her husband strip down out of his leather pants and wander through the bunker half naked.

“I’m going to shower and change. Dinner in half an hour sound good?” he asked from behind her.  
“Yeah. Call me when the table is set,” she said, distracted by the data in front of her. She had hacked into a federal database and needed to be quick.  
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled and then was off to their living quarters.

Felicity dove in and tracked the flow of money that surrounded the buying and selling of all the flagged property in Opal City, the way it had its origins in Central City and how it had been housed, ever so briefly, in Havenrock. This madman, this mass murderer, was not targeting Oliver, they were targeting her. Of that she was now almost one hundred percent certain.

The money transfers, the shell corporations, all of it, had been carefully planned and executed to hide the true identity and location of the person responsible. She was so close, she could feel it. She needed to find a way around all the offshore protections on the numbered accounts but for that she needed to identify the algorithm that kept the accounts sealed. Luckily, she had a program that she could run to identify it. The only problem, it would take at least five hours to run.

Setting the parameters and making sure to turn off all the monitors so that Oliver couldn’t see what she was doing, she would need time to figure out what to do with the information once she had it, she turned off the lights and went to join him in the apartment. She could smell something delicious and her stomach began to growl in answer.

“What are you making?” she asked, joining him behind the island that separated the kitchen from the living room.  
“Waffles,” he said, “with strawberries, blueberries and coconut whipped cream.”  
“Oh my God.”  
“You’re welcome.”

Felicity sat down at the dining room table and gleefully rubbed her hands together. This was a treat as Oliver would never casually ingest such decadence. She was glad to have more information to share with him besides the dossiers on the five men from the night before.

“So, I think I have tracked down the protected accounts for whoever actually owns the properties in Opal City,” she said between bites of fruit and waffle, “As it turns out, they may have been a resident of Havenrock.”  
“Felicity…,” concern coloured Oliver’s voice, “This is why we are down here.”  
“I am running an a program to try and break through the offshore account security wall,” she continued, ignoring him in the process, “it should only take about five or six hours. The Swiss are serious about their security.”  
“I wonder if that person is in anyway connected to the five men from the other night,” Oliver mused.  
“I was wondering the same thing. It is possible. He could be setting them up as a diversion for you,” she agreed, finishing her dinner, “That was the best dinner ever, Oliver.”  
“I almost snuck some kale into it.”  
“Then you would have been sleeping alone for the next week.”

Oliver stretched, rubbed his stomach, and looked at the couch.

“Looks like it has room for two,” he commented.  
“Shall we retire to the living room? Maybe watch some tv like normal people?” she asked with a sly smile.  
“Yes, please,” he smiled back.

There were nights, like tonight, when she wished this was their life. Dinners at night, tv, relaxing on the couch out of the sight of criminals looking to kill them or the city. Watching Oliver, relaxed and happy, filled her with warmth and contentment. The night would not last forever, but whatever precious moments they could share, she would savour.

“When this is all over….Klamath?” she asked softly as he settled next to her on the couch.  
“Klamath for weeks,” he sighed, “I am so glad no one knows about that place.”  
“Me, too. I am feeling good about buying it under that false name,” she mused.  
“Me, too. Smart you are, my wife,” he said, pulling her closer to him.  
“True,” she agreed, “now I need to use my brain to figure out what the Slaughterer wants from me besides revenge.”  
“I promise you, here and now, if that person so much as lays a hand on you, I will kill them,” Oliver said quietly but vehemently.

She knew better than to dissuade him. Oliver, even as he strived to be a different, better man, had a black and white sense of justice when it came to his family. If anyone dared harm her, William, Thea, Roy or John, he would kill them. Not quickly though, she knew he would make them suffer, beg and plead for their lives before ending their lives in a shower of blood and broken bones.

Running her hand down his arm, her way of calming the storm raging under his skin, she felt the way his muscles jumped. He was living energy, almost uncontained, and she could feel the sparks flying off of him with every breath he took.

“If you could purr, I bet this would start that up,” she teased him, redirecting his focus to her.  
“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he said in disbelief as she laughed at his expression.  
“Come on, let’s avoid the news and watch something to make us laugh. Today was...too much.”

Flipping on the tv, Oliver did a quick search and found a repeat of Brooklyn Nine Nine playing on a comedy channel and turned to it. It was a nice distraction, they stopped thinking about the horror that laid waiting outside their door, the information quietly being discovered, and the horror as yet to come.

Between the warmth of Oliver’s body, the weight of the knit afghan they had pulled over them on the couch and within the protective circle of his arms, Felicity could feel herself drifting. The day slipped off her skin and untangled from her mind. Before the show was even halfway done, she was fast asleep in the safest place she would ever know.

 

II

 

It was the persistent clang of metal on metal that woke her up from her deep slumber. At first she was confused. The tv was off, the lights were low and she was curled up on the couch alone. She had no idea how long she had been asleep or where Oliver had gone. She sat up and looked around, thinking he might be stretched out on the floor as he sometimes prefered the harder sleeping surface.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

He had, however, left her a glass of water on the coffee table. The air in the bunker was dry and cool and they often ended up drinking more water at night. It was something they would have to get used to if they were going to be staying in the apartment for any length of time.

As she drank, she heard the clang of metal again and knew where he was. With a smile, she slipped on a pair of slippers and went out to watch him on the salmon ladder. When he couldn’t sleep, he worked out. When he was anxious, he worked out. It was his zen space.

“So, leaving me to sleep while you worked out,” she said with a tsk tsk.  
“I started thinking and, well,” he smiled sheepishly at her as he wiped his face with a towel.  
“Don’t let me stop you,” she smiled.

With a glance up, Oliver reach up, jumped just a little bit to grasp the bar and made his way up and down the bar. He did it with practised ease and she found herself mesmerized by the strength and power his body possessed. He made it look effortless.

“You are staring,” he said with a wide smile.  
“Why, I do not know what you mean,” she said, feigning innocence.  
“If you practiced, you could do this, too,” he teased as he once more made his way up the ladder and then back down.  
“Well, I wouldn’t want to take something so precious away from you,” she said, watching him with undisguised appreciation and what she knew was naked desire.

“What time is it?” he asked, picking up his towel and water bottle.  
“A little after 2am,” she said with a yawn as she wandered up to check on her program, hoping it had completed its run.  
“Is that done?” he called over.  
“Is that why you are out here? Checking to see?”  
“Maybe,” he said evasively. He waited patiently for her to check and rejoin him for the short walk back to the apartment.  
“Oliver, it’s ok. I know you are just as curious as I am. And as worried but it has another four hours to go at the very least,” she said softly.

He responded by wrapping her in a hug.

“Oliver, you are very sweaty.”  
“I thought you loved it when I got sweaty,” he teased.  
“I do. I very, very much do,” she mused gently.  
“Follow me,” he whispered in her ear.

Slipping her hand in his, she expected to be lead straight to their bed but he walked past it and headed to the master bathroom. Felicity covered her mouth to cover the laugh she could feel building but she loved where his mind was going.

“We need to break this thing in,” Oliver commented as he turned on the taps to fill the tub.  
“Break it in?” she asked with a laugh.  
“Felicity, you went to all this trouble,” he said in mock seriousness as he took off his sweat soaked shirt, “the least we can do is take a bath.”

Felicity watched him in bemusement. His love of a simple bath was something she had watched grow from a small fascination to a full blown dedication. It had begun so simply in Bali and by the time they had reached Positano, he was hooked. And here, in this underground space, he was proving just as thoughtful and eager as he did above ground.

Carefully, he set the room temperature and lowered the lights, creating the same kind of ambience as though it were sunset. The water would stay hot for as long as they needed it to be, thanks to the way the tub was heated, and he had slipped in something that smelled like sandalwood and ylang ylang.

“You, my dear, are completely overdressed,” he murmured, sidling up to her as she watched the steam rise.  
“Really?” she smiled, allowing him to pull her shirt off.  
“Oh, absolutely. Although you could go in as is…”  
“I would end you, Oliver,” she said flatly.  
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said quietly, pulling her into a deep kiss.

She hummed into him, feeling the softness of his lips, the bristle of his beard and the way his hands moved up and down her back. Even now, she felt butterflies in her stomach, her heart beat a little faster and she felt hopelessly alive with anticipation.

“You are incredibly sticky,” she whispered.  
“Then let’s get in the tub.”

To be fair, it was much more than a tub. Felicity had spotted it in a design catalogue and knew it would be perfect for them. It was deep and wide and had more jets and dials they then would ever find the time to figure out. Especially when they looked at each other the way they were in that moment.

“You should probably take off your pants,” she said in mock criticism.  
“You first,” he said lowly, standing as close to her as he could without touching her.  
“Oliver, why is everything always a competition with you?”

He laughed as he slipped his pants off.

“No underwear? Oliver…,” she said in mock disapproval.  
“I get less sweaty that way!”  
“Pfft,” she snorted.

Felicity took her time removing the rest of her clothes as it gave her the chance to watch Oliver walk into the water. She teased him about not having an ounce of fat on him and felt her knees go slightly shaky as she watched the way the muscles moved in his back and legs as he lowered himself into the water.

“Coming?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she removed the rest of her clothes and joined him.

“Oh God, this water feels good,” she all but moaned.  
“I might live in here…,” he mused, allowing his arms to float on the top of the water.  
“Oh thank God!” she exclaimed, “More room for me in bed.”  
“I changed my mind.”

Felicity laughed and settled against him. The water smelled divine and just for a moment, she forgot all about the program running fifty feet away on her computer.

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, “Let’s go away for our anniversary.”  
“Where?”  
“Wherever you want.”

Felicity thought for a moment before speaking, “Klamath. My answer is always going to be Klamath.”

“So what was the real reason for the late night workout?”  
“The letter from Havenrock,” he admitted, “All of it.”  
“You need to sleep, Oliver,” she admonished, “Not just catnaps like I am grabbing.”  
“That’s why I didn’t wake you,” he said softly, his lips finding the slight hollow of her neck.  
“I am glad but I would have liked to watch,” she sighed.  
“Here,” he said, handing her a washcloth, “wash my back instead. Please.”

He slipped below the surface of the water, rinsing his hair and head, while she reached for the soap. They had strayed from their ritual in recent days and it brought her a small measure of peace to know it was still possible for them to do. The intimacy and tenderness of it was always something she enjoyed and knew, given enough time, it would lead to more.

“We should have some kind of memorial held for the people in the boat,” she said quietly.  
“That is a wonderful idea. Once we get some more information…,” he trailed off as she ran her hands over his neck and shoulders.  
“Maybe we could create a garden in the Havenrock Memorial Park,” she suggested.  
“Felicity,” he said, taking the washcloth from her and helping her to sit in front of him, “It would be an honour to include them there.”

She felt her heart swell and lost the power of her voice. Oliver, for all his gruffness and deflections, was as tenderhearted as she was about some things and when it came to the loss of innocent lives, he was her match.

“You know just what to say,” she murmured.  
“Just to you,” he chuckled.

They both fell silent, letting the water eddy and flow around them. She was relaxed and warm but feeling the effects of sitting too long in hot water.

“I am starting to prune, love,” she commented, holding up her hands, “I think I will call it a night.”  
“I’ll join you,” he said with a sigh, “I think I am clean and nicely relaxed.”

Together, they exited the bath. Oliver wrapped her in a towel before getting one for himself. A drop of water, making its way down his chest, caught her eye. She watched it find every slope and ridge of his abdomen on its way down to the towel around his waist. It glittered in the warm light, pulling her breath with it.

Oliver reached for her hand and pulled her behind him, back into the bedroom. He had been experimenting with the light controls and had found the wall mounted fireplace. She watched with bemusement as he created what she could only call an atmosphere. With a couple of taps, the room was dark with only the warm glow of the firelight.

“Why Oliver,” she teased, “you really do know how to set the mood.”  
“You went to a lot of trouble installing all of this, the least I could do was figure it out.”  
“You have done a lovely job,” she smiled, “I like the fireplace, I just wish I could have figured out a way to get a real one in, one that actually gives off heat.”  
“I think I can take care of the heat part,” he said softly, sidling up to her.  
“You think so?”

He nodded, running his hands through her hair, “I do.”  
“Aren’t you tired? From patrol, your workout, the bath?” she asked, running her hands over his chest, pausing to feel every ridge of muscle and scar tissue.  
“I am but I am never too tired for you,” he whispered against her neck.

With a gentle tug, he removed her towel.

“I love your skin after a bath. It is so soft,” he said quietly, his finger tips hovering just above her heart, “You are so beautiful…”  
“Why Oliver,” she teased gently, “You are going to make me swoon.”  
“I hope so,” he smiled before leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Otherwise I got you naked for nothing.”

Felicity smiled and shivered as his fingertips touched the delicate skin on her neck. He was seducing her as a way to keep her occupied, she knew him well enough for that, but she was happy to let him. The way he looked at her made her knees weak but she was determined to remain standing for just a short while longer.

“I know what you are doing, Oliver,” she said in mock disapproval as she ran her hands up his chest, “But I approve.”

Oliver smiled into the kiss he gave her and she hummed her approval. When he picked her up, and she was able to wrap her legs around his waist, she didn’t feel small in his arms. She felt powerful and in control, especially when she could feel his heart beating fast and strong in his chest as it pressed against hers.

In two long strides, he crossed to their bed and laid her down on her back, keeping his full weight off of her but making sure to pin her gently to the voluminous mattress underneath them. This was the fun part, where he would start with unspoken permission from her and then with a small gesture from her, relinquish it with a sigh of contentment that still surprised her.

“I love that your hair is getting long again,” he murmured against her throat, his lips and tongue exploring the sensitive skin that lived there.  
“I love the gray that is appearing in yours,” she whispered, running her hands through his hair, feeling the bristly length of it.  
“You little…”

She gasped when she felt one of his hands slip between her legs. He watched her slip sideways into ecstasy and it was all she could do not to drag him with her. His cock twitched and hardened against her inner thigh and she smiled at him through the rising haze of desire.

“Oliver,” she murmured, breathlessly against his lips, “don’t hold back.”  
“You know me so well,” he smiled. But his kiss held no humour, only desire.

His lips trailed down her neck, distracting her as he pushed so firmly inside her. It was like her body became greedy, demanding of his, but she tried to focus on him even as his found first one nipple and then the other, licking and sucking them until they were as hard as rocks. A low moan escaped her lips before she could contain it and it drove Oliver on, his hips picking up speed until all she could see were stars behind her eyes.

If he had stopped and asked her to shave her head or wear only pink tulle for the rest of her life, she would have happily agreed without a second thought. Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed him, a long, deep kiss that stole his breath. His hands tightened on her back as he pulled her closer to him, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips the entire time.

“I am going to take my time with you tomorrow,” he panted, “but right now…”  
“Shhh...I just want to feel you,” she said, her voice soft and deep voice.

She felt his breath, hot and fast, on her neck, as he treated her like a banquet created only for him. Some nights, she would take her pleasure from him, straddling his hips and controlling every movement they shared. It was when she rose above him that he allowed himself to be at his most vulnerable and it was then that she felt connected to him body and soul.

But now, as she gazed up at him, she witnessed that same vulnerability. It was in the unfocused softness of his eyes, the way he held her hand over his heart, and the way he wrapped his body around hers. He was unshackled from his past, from the trauma that had marked his flesh and branded his soul. When he made love to her, he was letting go of the violence that defined him and making the choice to accept the love she had been so freely offering for six years.

Caressing his face, she made the choice to remain where she was and allowed him the chance to chase his own ecstasy instead of chasing her own. Tightening her body around his, she met the tempo he had set. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, under his jaw and down his neck. He pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing growing shallow and ragged.

Then came the moment that always seemed to ignite her body beyond her control. She could feel the way his cock would swell and throb deep inside her, signalling how close he was to finding that joyful release. He would whisper promises to her, revealing the depth of his devotion and love to her. She let her thoughts go, drifting into a fugue where only the way they were connected mattered.

A rush of heat, spiraling out from her pelvis, gripped her body. If she could have pulled him closer, she would have. Instead, she settled for kissing him as he moved, and pulsed, inside of her. Every cell of her body felt the force of his need, his desire, for her and responded in kind. “Love” wasn’t a strong enough word for what she felt as her orgasm swirled out to engulf her. It was a force big enough to create its own reality, so much so that she knew when this life ended, they would find each other in the next.

With a quiet groan, Oliver pinned her to the bed, his hips stilled for a fraction of a second before he found the ecstasy he was looking for, pouring himself inside her. She could feel him trembling just a bit and held him, running her hands up and down his back, willing him to return to his body.

“I think I needed that,” he mumbled.  
“I think we both did,” she corrected him gently.

Carefully, Oliver moved to lay down beside her. Felicity held him close, keeping his softened cock inside her. It was a different sensation to feel how the hardness, the thickness, of him would slowly reduce until it would slip out of her body. She felt empty when that would happen, like part of her body was leaving as well.

“I wish we could stay here forever. Not here here but just somewhere in leisure, with William back and us above ground,” she said wistfully, “I hope one day we can. I have enough money for us to retire very early. From this life that is.”  
“Once I feel that our, my, mission is done, we can,” he said softly, “I can live my life, freely, with you and William and however many children we have.”  
“However many?” she laughed, “I thought we agreed on two.”  
“Twins can happen,” he shrugged.  
“Oliver, my body is not here solely to reproduce,” she said quietly.  
“I know, I know,” he sighed, “but the thought of a family, our family…”  
“I know,” she said as she caressed his face, “and you are proving to be a thoughtful, devoted dad to the one child you already have.”

They laid facing each other in silence, listening to the soft hiss of air coming from the vents. Felicity was listening for the beep from her computer that would signal her program had been successful. She was anxious but glad it was not yet done.

“I think I will sleep in tomorrow...today, I guess,” she mused.  
“Are you going to stay here to work?”  
“Yes, love, I will. If I need fresh air, I will go to the courtyard,” she reassured him knowing he was still nervous about the person out there who seemed to know how and where to find them.  
“Ok,” he said, trying to hide his relief, “I only have a half day so I’ll be back here around one o’clock. I’ll probably have a nap.”  
“An afternoon nap? You?” she laughed.  
“You wear me out!”  
“You wear yourself out,” she mumbled.

Oliver laughed and reached for the heavy woolen blanket at the end of the bed, pulling it over them to ward off the now damp cool air. They could get into the bed properly, but she was happy enough to stay wrapped around him.

“We have quite a puzzle to figure out, don’t we?” she said softly.  
“We do. We have a murderer tied to Havenrock, five gangsters intent on taking over the city, one mystery weapons supplier...this is going to be a hard one. Even for us.”  
“Diggle is coming home in a week,” she said quietly, “and Roy and Thea should be somewhere reachable in a few days. We can call them.”  
“I think we will be fine. Although it would be nice to have Diggle as backup out in the field,” he murmured.

Felicity reached across and gently stroked his face, feeling the rough bristles of his scruff and the smoothness of his skin. She could read his body with her fingertips, his scars like braille, and was always in search of new chapters on his skin.

“You know what we should do one night?” he asked.  
“What?”  
“Popcorn and a movie or two.”  
“I love that idea,” she agreed.  
“I find myself thinking a lot of things not Green Arrow related. I am looking forward to a life of quiet with you. A life that is mine, yours...ours,” he said gently, moving closer to her under the blanket.  
“You should get some sleep,” she whispered, leaning in to give him a soft kiss, “It is late and you have a 9am meeting.”  
“I don’t need to sleep,” he murmured against her lips.  
“Hmmmm you might not but I do,” she said in weak protest.  
“Not yet,” he whispered before he kissed her.

Powerlessness was not something she liked being but with his hands on her body, the way his tongue felt in her mouth, she was exactly that. It was a process of surrendering her body to his, to allow the hunger for him, the want of him, envelope her. It was a soul consuming desire that seemed to have no hint of an end.

Pushing him onto his back, she straddled his hips and used her body to stroke him hard. She felt feverish, her skin prickly and hot, as he thrust hard inside her. A groan escaped his lips as she took control of his body, moving her hips in a sinuous pattern.

This time it was going to be fast, lightning hot, and explosive. She could feel how close her orgasm was and let it come. It was liquid fire coursing through all parts of her, like nothing she had ever felt before. Her back arched and she stopped breathing until it felt like her heart and lungs would burst out of her chest.

When she looked down at him, his eyes were wild, feral, and she could tell he was barely holding on. Felicity reached down and pulled him up to sitting. He was so much larger than she was that it was easy for her to wrap her legs and arms around him and wait for him. He used his enormous strength to thrust hard and deep into her.

Felicity felt like she had stepped outside of her body. Ecstasy had her in its grips and she wasn’t even sure if she could speak but she found the focus to whisper in his ear. She poured out her love for him, all the things he knew and some he didn’t. They had no secrets in moments like this.

His chest heaving, Oliver groaned into her neck and rolled his hips and paused. Her entire body was throbbing in ecstasy, but she gripped his cock as hard as her body would allow and felt his explosive orgasm. She wanted to look at him but knew he needed a moment to relax.

“I love you, Felicity, with everything I have.”  
“I love you, too, Oliver. More each day.”  
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” he said gently, kissing her shoulder.  
“Good! I was hoping I would be your only wife,” she teased.  
“If you make me feel like that everytime we make love, I will happily go along with that.”  
“Oh my God, Oliver,” she fake groaned.  
“I’m just saying! I lose track of myself. It’s like we...merge.”  
“I totally know what you mean,” she sighed, “And to think you were going to give up on feelings.”  
“What a fool I was,” he laughed quietly.

She was loath to move but then hearda soft but insistent beeping.

“Sounds like my program is done running,” she yawned.  
“Are you going to bother pretending you are going to come to bed?” he asked.  
“Nope. I’m going to use the bidet, put on some clothes and get to work for a few hours.”  
“Want me to join you?”  
“No,” she said as she got up, “Get some rest. I’ll be back in a few.”

She grabbed her clothes and headed to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed again. She really wanted to climb back into bed and sleep for hours but her curiousity had taken hold of her and she had to know what she was going to see and find.

When she returned to the bedroom, Oliver had slipped into bed and was on his stomach, watching for her. Smiling, she crossed to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You get some sleep,” she said, smoothing his hair back, “but if I find anything good, I;ll come get you. Ok?”  
“Ok,” he mumbled, his eyes slowing closing.

She kissed his forehead and silently left the room.

The walk to her computer station seemed to take forever. The beeping grew louder as she approached and her anxiety increased with it. She was running through all the possible answers that could be waiting for her, what her reactions would be and, most importantly, what she would do with the information once it was in hand.

She took a deep breath, turned on her monitors and began to read. The program had cracked the algorithm and provided a list of numbered accounts associated with the shell company she had discovered last night.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered and clicked the first account.

Each account lead to the next, revealing more and more information until she found the original one. The one that held all the information they needed to find and stop him.

Felicity’s hands shook as she funneled all of his money to an account she had set up in Costa Rica for just this reason. Over $25 million dollars disappeared with a series of quick keystrokes. It brought tears of joy to eyes to impoverish this monster but she did it and silently cheered.

This man, who she now knew was named Stanley Dover, was a self made man but rich. Richer than the numbered accounts she had discovered. His now deceased wife, whose pharmaceutical company had held a patent on a cancer drug that was used the world over, had left her billions to him. But for some reason, instead of continuing to do good, he had sunk part of his fortune into the murky waters of the underworld of guns, drugs, and violence.

She dug a bit more and found the key to his unraveling. His sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and mother had died that horrible day when the bomb fell on Havenrock. Felicity sat, frozen in horror and renewed grief, and read about their lives. They had the future in the palm of their hands. The brother-in-law had been the Chief Financial Officer of the company, they were wealthy, active in the community and ready for a life full of family and love.

Tears rolled down her face and she hung her head and let them fall. She wept in private now, so as not to alarm Oliver, and this information ripped a hole in her heart. She knew their names. She had memorized them and recited them to Oliver that long night when she let go of all the souls of Havenrock. Setting them free for Death to take once and for all.

“Felicity? What is it?” came Oliver’s quiet voice from behind her.

In lieu of an answer, she got up and walked into his waiting arms. He didn’t ask her anything else, he just held her and waited for her tears to subside. He rubbed her back, soothing her as best he could. She had buried her face in his chest and after a few minutes was finally able to lift her head.

“It’s awful, Oliver. It’s what I thought but I still wasn’t prepared,” she whispered.  
“Show me,” he said firmly.

Looking up at him, she studied his expression. He looked tired but determined. She took his hands in hers and lead him to her monitors. All the information was laid out in chronological order so she stepped back and let him read it all. His hands began to twitch and he jaw clenched. By the time he got to the end, he was rigid with rage.

“I am going to find him tomorrow night,” he said, his voice low and full of steel.  
“We need to call Roy and Thea. You can’t take this man on alone, Oliver,” she said firmly.  
“No time. He needs to be stopped right now. You’ve got his attention by draining his accounts. He will be looking for us both but primarily you.”  
“I was going to only drain one but decided to go for all of them,” she explained, “He has billions more but this is tax free money. His nest egg if he loses the company. Now it is dispersed into accounts he will never find.”

Oliver turned to look at her. For the first time in a long time, his face was unreadable to her and that frightened her. He must have seen that flash of fear because he instantly crossed to her and took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a tender kiss.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, “I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”  
“I know but sometimes you give me cause for concern,” she said, looking into his eyes, searching for an answer.  
“You just have to trust me.”  
“Oliver, I do trust you. I just don’t always believe you when you say you will be cautious.”  
“Ok, I’ll give you that,” he conceded.  
“I think I need to rest for a bit. I feel...I feel like I have been hit in the head. I can’t seem to focus on anything…”

Oliver scooped her up and carried her back to their bedroom. At any other time, she would have protested but all the fight was gone from her body. Havenrock was her downfall, it was the one thing she would never be free from. All the grief and regret lived in her bones even though the souls she had held captive for so long were gone. This new reminder was another open wound that she would need to heal.

She was asleep before they reached the bedroom. She never felt the tender way Oliver undressed her, or the gentle way he tucked her into bed. She had given over to the bliss of unconsciousness, where no dreams could follow, and slept so deeply she missed the soft kiss pressed to her forehead and the large calloused hand that smoothed her hair off her face.

When she finally awoke, Oliver had left for the day and she was alone in the bunker. It was a struggle to get out of bed but she did and was surprised to find herself in her underwear. Oliver could undress her without waking her up like it was nothing. She smiled as she showered and thought about their conversation about starting a family. One day she hoped they could put those dreams into action but she knew that day was a long way off.

Checking her phone, she saw it was still early. Oliver was in a meeting until eleven am and after inspecting the fridge, she noted that they were out of cream for coffee. She could wait for Oliver to come back with some but was feeling restless and in need of fresh air.

Sending a quick text to Oliver to tell him where she was headed, she put her shoes on and grabbed her purse. Grocery shopping was a luxury she actually looked forward to given their lives and the hours they kept.

Stepping out into the morning sunlight, Felicity smiled up into the sun. It was a beautiful, warm fall morning and she was so glad that she decided to step out into it. Oliver would not be happy but the store was one block away and she could be there and back in less than half an hour.

She let her thoughts focus back on the information that was revealed last night. She needed to develop a game plan for Oliver so that they could find Stanley Dover and get him behind bars before anymore violence or damage was inflicted on the citizenry. Felicity looked up to check if there was any traffic coming at the corner north of where the bunker was located and was surprised to see that there was only one vehicle on the road. A blue van was idling across the street waiting for the light to change.

From deep within her purse, she heard her phone buzzing and knew it was Oliver either calling or texting her back. She paused to dig for it and failed to hear the footsteps coming up behind her. Finding her phone, she was about to answer it when she saw a sudden burst of stars and then nothing but an inky blackness that swallowed her whole.

 

III

_Stanley Dover wasn’t a young man but he was fit and capable of handling a five foot five computer genius. If he could sneak up behind her without her hearing him, it would only take a moment to knock her out and carry her to the van. He had guessed that she would be somewhere hidden and had guessed it was the hotel nearest City Hall._

_When he saw her come out the doors adjacent to the hotel lobby, he could have shouted with glee. They were predictable. Creatures of habit. And those ingrained habits would be their downfall and his reward. After he had received the phone call from Zurich that his accounts were empty, he knew his days of hiding in the shadows were over._

_He didn’t need the money. It was what he had earned as a gun runner in Africa and from the poppy fields in Afghanistan. It was dirty money that he couldn’t mix with the company’s but its loss at the hands of Felicity Smoak was one he would not let go unanswered. She has decimated his family when she redirected that bomb and while he knew Damian Darkh was the reason why the bombs flew, he couldn’t kill him. The Green Arrow had taken care of that for him._

_The next best target was whomever had failed to stop the bomb from dropping on Havenrock. It had taken him two years of searching, of bribes, of hired men beating other hired men, of taking over one gang after another and infiltrating ARGUS’s records to discover the name of the person responsible for both saving the world and killing a city._

_Felicity Megan Smoak. Wife of Oliver Queen, the mayor of Star City._

_Snatching her off the street was the first step. Next was to get her inside the building with the cell he constructed just for her. He wasn’t sure if he was going to kill her or not. And if he did, he wasn’t sure if he was going to do it slowly, like with the people in the boat, or if he would end her life quickly, like all the others he had killed leading up to the Gambit._

_One thing was for certain, he was not fond of the name the media had given him. It was inelegant, crass. He prefered the Star City Slayer. It held a certain panache that made him giggle with glee late at night when he was wandering the halls alone at night in his gigantic, empty mansion._

_He would look out over the city and start to seethe. All of those happy families, living together in their happy homes. It filled him with a mindless rage. When he had slaughtered the family from the Glades, he had drugged them all but kept them alive for as long as possible while he dismembered, disemboweled, and beheaded them. He had smelled blood on his hands for days and it had ignited him in ways he thought long since dead. He had masturbated in his shower as he relived the moments of the women’s deaths. Seeing their faces contort in pain, their screams silenced by a slow drag of his knife across their throats._

_Even the memory of their deaths caused his cock to harden. He wanted undo his pants and satisfy his lustful need but kept his focus on the road. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by the police for erratic driving while stroking his cock to the memory of blood and death._

_He checked his rearview mirror and saw she was still out cold. He had hit her with a full blast of his taser and then dosed her with a sedative to keep her under. She would be dazed and confused when she woke up but he would have her locked up by then. Locked up and under his control._

_Pulling up the drive and into his large garage, he sat in silence, listening to the sound of his engine as it ticked and cooled. He had brought out an old wheelchair, one used by his mother or father before they died, and restraints but he doubt he would need to use them._

_She wasn’t heavy, so getting her into it only took a moment. He paused and stroked her cheek. Her skin was soft, too soft. He prefered his women to have a bit of grit and toughness to them. Scars were always welcome._

_Wheeling her through the garage to the elevator hidden behind the workbench, he felt the surge of electric energy that accompanied his giggle fits and took deep breaths to calm himself down. It would be of no benefit to lose control now when he was so close to having his prize in her box._

_And what a box it was. It was an eight feet long, eight feet wide and eight feet tall soundproof cube. It had a bed, a toilet, a sink and shower. He could control the lights inside of it and the temperature. With a flick of a switch he could turn it into a sauna or freezer. He could leave the lights on all day or keep them off for days at a time. He had cameras covering all angles, infrared and regular, as well as the ability to provide food and necessities._

_She could be kept captive for weeks in the cell but she wouldn’t be alive that long._

_Picking her up, he placed her on the bed, did a cursory look around to make sure all was ready, and left the cell. She would wake up in a few hours and he needed to be ready. They were going to have several conversations in the next few days, and he needed to rest._


	7. The Beginning Not The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This got long and I apologize for the editing (or lack there of) as I am vacation and just wanted to get this out there so y'all could read it.
> 
> This chapter lays bare the reason why Felicity was kidnapped off the street. It also introduces you to Stanley Dover (who is based on an actual Green Arrow villain, a really nasty one that I am going to make nastier).
> 
> More importantly, this shows the team work Oliver and Felicity are capable of, even after this mini-trauma. There is real honesty between them and it ends (their sections anyways) in a place that shows just how deep their connection runs. It is sexy but intense.
> 
> It is kinda graphic (the Dover parts) so trigger warning if ultra-violence isn't your kick. Maybe skip those sections or give them a light read. But this is only the beginning of Stanley's reign of terror. It is taking all of their effort to track him and stop him.

Chapter Five: The Beginning Not The End

_When she moved_   
_The Universe danced_   
_To give her room to create._

Oliver  
I

Oliver checked his phone repeatedly during the meeting. He had tried calling and texting Felicity after she let him know she was going to the store to pick up a few things. While he would have preferred to pick the items up himself, the store was a block away and the exit she would have taken would be the one next to the hotel adjacent to the office. It was morning and she would be walking down a busy street. Not unsafe if not entirely safe.

That was two hours ago and she hadn’t checked in or responded to his calls. Something was up and his gut was telling him to get to the bunker as quick as he could. He canceled his lunch meeting and raced back to their temporary shelter.

“FELICITY!” he yelled as soon as he stepped out of the elevator.

His voice echoed back to him. Her computers were humming, a half eaten granola bar was beside her keyboard and her slippers were under her desk. Nothing was amiss there, she often ate while she worked, and he wasn’t upset that she left to get cream. Being four stories underground could get to her at times and she needed to be up in the light.

Tapping his thighs with his fingertips, Oliver considered what he could do to track her. He booted up the computer he had Felicity set up for him. It was connected to the rest of the system but it was partitioned to allow him a sense of privacy.

Most importantly, there was a program that existed on his computer and only on his computer that he was about to use for the very first time. No one else knew it existed or that it had been created. Felicity had worked out how to upload a tracking program to her biochip. It was designed as a fail safe, in case something happened and Oliver needed to locate her at a moment’s notice.

The only way it wouldn’t work was if she was dead or it had been destroyed outside of her body. So long as her heart was beating, the program would work. He hesitated, heart pounding and sweat slowly running down his back, and then hit the start button.

He waited as it worked its magic. The map that appeared on his screen moved as it followed the path she had taken during the day. It moved back and forth across the city before zeroing in on a large estate north of the city. Then in a blink, it was gone. Alarmed, Oliver ran the program again only for it to track the chip to a slightly different location and then blink out again.

He stared at the screen in disbelief and, out of sheer stubbornness, ran the program again. He watched the map carefully, following her path to through the city until it blinked out, it’s after image fading from a bright green dot to nothingness as he watched, refusing to believe that it was gone.

His knees buckled and he was forced to sit down and contemplate what this actually meant. The fact that is kept appearing and reappearing in slightly different places around the city or further out, meant something was wrong just not with her. It was like a short circuit or static on the line. Something was interfering with the signal but it had slowly lead him to the place where she was: The Dover Estate.

On a whim, he ran it again. This time it stayed visible longer, leading him even closer to the main house of estate and then it was...gone. But in his gut he knew she was alive. He would have felt her passing if she died. It would be like a physical blow to his body. One that would devastate and cripple him with grief and loss. Instead, he felt a building, growing push of rage.

With hard stabs at the keyboard, he began a search on the estate and the man, trying to uncover as much as he could with his own tools and then switched over to Felicity’s main computer and took a stab at using hers. If he was correct, he had just begun a dark web search on who Stanley Dover was, including all his business holdings and where his family was located.

He couldn’t go charging in head first and hope for the best. He knew based on the size of the estate, that there would be security cameras, sensors and guards in all corners. Queen Estate had been similar in size and wealth, when it existed, so he understood what he was up against. If he was to gain entrance, it might have be as Oliver Queen, not the Green Arrow.

Turning in his chair, he watched the map for any sign of her. A random blip of the tracker working to let him know where she was and saw nothing. Clenching his jaw, and swallowing his rage, he returned to his work of uncovering who Stanley Dover was and what could be motivating him.

It didn’t take long for him to find the file on his family. Felicity had hid it but he was familiar enough with her mind to know where she would file something she didn’t want him to see. As he read, his blood ran cold. This man hadn’t kidnapped Felicity to get to him. He had been targeting her all along. Havenrock was the reason. The one bomb they had been unable to stop had wiped out his family and created a monster whose one purpose was to kill the only woman he would ever love.

In a blind fury, Oliver stood up, the chair flying off across the comm centre, for the sole reason of destroying everything he could get his hands on. But his fiste were stayed by the red pen that laid beside her keyboard. He hadn’t seen it earlier, but seeing it now with her teeth marks on the cap, he felt the rage drain out of him. He was standing in her lair. Every surface of the desks, the keyboards, the monitors, had been touched by her. She had created the space and he was simply a guest. His mother had raised him to respect the households of those he visited and right now, he was trespassing on her sacred ground.

He would no sooner destroy her weapons and tools than he would his own. He was seething but he was also in control of what he did and how he did it. He calmed his breathing and focused. Stan Dover, who most likely selected and murdered twelve men, women and children, had taken Felicity and now he had to figure out how to find and free her.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver took off his suit jacket and dug into the information on where Dover’s money came from, how his wife died and what he had done in the last ten years. He read the way this man had kept under the radar on every front while letting the pharmaceutical company his wife’s family had created generate billions over the last twenty five years he had been the defacto CEO.

It allowed him dabble in criminal enterprises from behind all the shell companies that she had uncovered in her search for him. Guns, drugs, sex trafficking, all of it. He was a genuine kingpin with no name. He was supplying rival gangs with arms, flooding half the continent’s streets with drugs and sex. He was a heartless, cruel man and he was also evil. He had most likely slaughtered the people in the Gambit with his own hands.

He was dangerous. A true psychopath. And he had Felicity.

Oliver was perilously close to the edge of losing his grip on his sanity. A true madman had Felicity in his grips and he was literally powerless. He knew he should call Diggle or Thea and Roy but this was something he needed to do alone as Oliver Queen. He had to find a way onto Dover’s social calendar so that he could run some kind of reconnaissance on the estate.

Doing a quick check of the upcoming events in his Mayoral calendar, he spotted something he had overlooked. A reception for the Captains of Industry at the Dover Winery, which was located on the estate. It was in three days time. This would give him time to prepare, he only hoped Felicity’s time wouldn’t run out in the meantime.

Now he needed to think about what to do for the rest of the night. If he went out alone on patrol and got hurt, it could mean Felicity’s death. If he stayed in, he would lose his mind, thinking about what could be happening to her. Or the tracker could still start working while he was out and he would miss her re-appearance.

He decided to split the difference and train in the bunker. If anything major happened, he would be able to duck out and back but if it was a quiet night, he could stay put and prepare his plan for the coming Monday night. But something was nagging at him. An unexplainable sense of urgency had him headed back to her computers.

Using vaguely remembered instructions from Felicity, he found her previously installed backdoor into the City’s archives and located floor plans for the Dover mansion and surround outbuildings. He had no doubt things had changed since it was constructed but if he could get the basic layout, he could find that he needed.

He contemplated the many reasons why her tracker might not be working and decided that if it was being interfered with, she must be below ground. Even then, she must be behind the physical equivalent of a firewall. She was in a room that was providing interference, he was almost positive. And the only place where that could be was in the basement of the main house. Most likely under the garage.

Tapping his fingers against his thigh, he wondered if it was possible to use the same backdoor to find out what security company was looking after the house and if he could actually use the skills Felicity had been teaching him to hack his way in to find the schematics.

Nerves weren’t usually an issue, unless it came to using the tools of her trade, so he pushed his fear away and booted up the program she had created for him to use. It was designed to do most of the work for him, he just needed to guide it to the right destination.

Ten minutes later, a few choice words muttered at the intricate way the internet worked, he had it. If she had been there, she would have made him give her a high five or a hug. Her support was unending, freely given, and its absence was keenly felt. He clamped down on those thoughts so he could read the schematics on the security and match it up to the blueprints of the house. It would take him hours to go through every floor, every room and building.

Her absence in these moments was becoming more than he could bare. He could feel the rage building within him and the need to either howl or sob, he couldn’t tell which, was overwhelming him. He felt like he was slowly being turned inside out, his nerves frayed and stretched.

Slamming his hands onto her desk, causing the keyboard to jump and the red pen to tumble to the floor, he shook with helplessness, shapeless fury. She was alive, in mortal danger and he was helpless.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep a breath and counted to ten before releasing it. Then, after picking up her red pen, he printed off the blueprints and the schematics and got to work. The room was in there somewhere and he was going to find it.

Hours later, endless enlargements and hand drawn maps scribbled on or crumpled into a ball and flung across the room, he felt he had the house figured out and could move through it undetected if need be. Yet there was a void in the blueprints that he didn’t read as empty space but as the place where she was being held. His attention kept being drawn back to it over and over.

Under the garage, there was a large, deep room. It was serviced by an elevator and a staircase that lead up to a door that opened out to the wooded area behind the garage. The problem would be the inground sensors he had located a map of in his search through the security firm’s records. If he could make his way through them to the outside door, he could get to the downstairs room. The garage was on the edge of the property, connected to the main house by a long hallway. There was a thick wooded lane that ran alongside the entire estate where he could hide the Ducati and their helmets. They would have to escape quickly once he got her out of whatever cell or room she was being held in.

Narrowing his eyes at his handiwork, he knew he couldn’t wait to go in and free her as Oliver Queen. His gut instinct was to suit up, prepare the right fleches and all the trick arrows he could find and carry, and go. With every passing second, he became more and more convinced that her life was slowly approaching its end. He could feel her panic as though she were right next to him.

Before doubt could set in, Oliver turned on his heel and made his way to his weapons station to prepare for a midnight run on Dover Estate. Wine reception be damned. By the time he was done, he hoped to lay waste to that man’s entire home and life.

 

  
Stanley  
I

Stanley skipped down the main hallway of his enormous mansion. The floor was a work of art. It was white Italian marble, hand cut and polished specifically for his home, and inlaid with ebony, malachite, tiger eye, and lapus lazuli in a complicated geometric pattern. Similar to the masterpieces of coloured sand that Thai monks created and destroyed every day. He paused to enjoy it and imagined a river of blood flowing down the central of it.

He didn’t have anything to stop him from reaching into his pants and stroking his flaccid penis until it was hard. He pictured the shredded remains of the women and men he had offered up to his rage. The way the oldest woman in the group had begged, offered herself to save the rest, and he had skinned her breasts from her body as she howled in pain. Her daughter had watched in horror before passing out.

He shuddered and came with a high pitched grunt. His legs shook and and his vision clouded in the after effects of his climax. It never took long, only a few quick, hard strokes, but the end result left him both refreshed and exhausted. His hands were sticky with his ejaculate, and after wiping them on his pants, he continued down the long hallway to his bedroom and changed into clothes more suited to his next task. He wanted to be comfortable when he spoke to Felicity. Comfortable and free to lounge in the chair outside her door. He was giddy with anticipation. He was going to make a meal out of her. A truly delicious, meal that he intended to savour.

The elevator on the main floor took him down to a hallway that connected to a large room under his garage. He had the room specially built for his hobbies and darker obsessions but he had built her cell, panel by panel. He had bought every component from different companies so that no one would be able to figure out just what he was doing.

Settling into his overstuffed lounge chair, he turned on the monitor suspended onto the back of the door of the cell and checked his guest. She was sitting on the edge of her makeshift bed, studying the walls and floor of her small space. She looked groggy and confused as the after effects of the sedative were still wearing off. With a high pitched laugh, he pushed a red button on the right arm rest and began to speak.

“Hello, Ms. Smoak,” he said in his calmest voice, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Stanley Dover, the Star City Slayer.”

He watched her as she jumped when she heard his voice but she didn’t panic. She searched out the speaker and glared. He had heard that she was brave as well as brilliant, which made her capture all the more rewarding.

“No questions? No inquiry into why you are here? Or who I am?” he asked with barely disguised glee.  
“Why would I ask you anything? I know why I am here. The letter you slipped under my door gave you away,” she said flatly.

Stanley felt the first stirring of anger in the back of his mind and clamped down on it as it would only interfere with his interrogation. He needed a reaction from her. He needed her to beg and plead for her life before the night was over. It would sweeten the meat.

“Tell me why you think you are here,” he suggested, “Let’s see if you are correct.”  
“Havenrock,” was all she said, her eyes scanning the wall where the speaker was located.  
“Not good enough, Felicity, you drained my secret accounts, you know more than that. So tell me,” he commanded.

Felicity sat up straight and somehow looked him straight in the eye and said, “In trying to stop over 15 000 nuclear warheads, I had to divert one that had gone too long in its path. In order to save over one million people, I had to sacrifice the lives of forty thousand people. It was the worst night of my life and I am so desperately sorry for it.”

Stanley smoothed his graying hair off his face and started to seethe. For her it was only a choice. One she thought she could apologize for and move on with her life. So what her husband had created a memorial garden? She had ended the lives of so many people that a garden should not be the end of her repentance. She deserved to suffer in every way possible, until he was satisfied she was utterly destroyed.

“Do you think that is enough? An apology? A Memorial Garden?” he spat in rage.  
“I can’t offer anything else,” she said softly, “I did the best I could. I was trying to stop a madman’s final solution. Darkh was determined to destroy the world.”  
“You did your best? Do you know what I think?” he asked in a faux sweet voice.  
“What?”  
“That the tableau I created in the Gambit, and the yacht itself, should give you an idea as to who and what I am. That you are maybe deluding yourself that your husband can somehow gain entry to this place and rescue you. No, Ms. Smoak, you are now mine. You will never see above ground again,” he said with venom dripping from every word, “Nothing you have done will ever pay for the loss of my family. Nothing you could ever do will make up for that.”  
“Then kill me. Why bother with this when you know you are going to kill me?” she asked.

Stanley looked at the screen, at the way her shoulders were set so square and upright, and the expression on her face. There was a hint of sorrow and guilt in her eyes but otherwise he saw a woman who was not afraid of him and it enraged him.

“When I was eleven, I watched my father kill my mother. He broke her body with precision and skill. He was an accomplished hunter and knew where to crack an arm so that he could disarticulate it. I watched him skin her, quarter her remains and then burn them to ash in a bonfire. When I was twenty four, I clubbed my father to death and then repeated the process he showed me with my mother,” he began calmly, “I was never caught. My father was mercurial, odd. He would disappear for weeks or months at a time. So he was listed as missing and now, of course, as dead.”

“I hated my father. He was a brutal, mean tempered man who drove me to be just like him. To be successful no matter who I crushed in the process. But he lacked finesse. He lacked style. Once I was rid of him, I blossomed. I developed my own way of doing things that rivaled his old way. He was a ruthless businessman but I excelled in ways that would have shocked him. I didn’t just make money, I blazed new ways of of doing it. But I got bored. I wanted to control how people lived, how they died,” he continued, warming to the story he was telling, “I wanted to be the one who was responsible for the reshaping of Star City’s population. Guns, drugs, sex...all of it brought into this city by me, crafted by the design I have created for it.”

“And then Havenrock happened. My sister had managed to miss the violence in our familial house. She was an infant when our father slaughtered our mother and he absolutely dotted on her. She was his little princess but she was my confident. My best friend. Her daughter was the brightest star in our family’s universe. The letter you saw was written by my sister’s mother-in-law. She was the mother neither of us had,” he continued, tension pushing through his calm facade, “You took the only family I will ever have. My wife and I never had children...mostly because we only had sex once so that the marriage was consummated. It was a marriage of convenience. Her father needed a male heir and she and I needed money. It worked remarkably well for ten years and then her father died. All of that money, all the companies, all the power and wealth...it came to me. The capital came to me. My wife received an allowance of $2.5 million a year. Money that could have been coming to me. So, I killed her.”

He laughed when he saw Felicity’s face and how quickly she went from stoic listening to truly shocked. It was a delight to shock her. He felt a great sense of pride in how he had dispatched with his wife. She had been prone to depression, threatening to kill herself and would self-medicate with pills and booze. It didn’t take much to get her to take a handful of painkillers and wash it down with a bottle of wine. He had watched her lose focus, consciousness and then her life. It happened so simply and quickly, he wasn’t sure she was actually gone until her skin was cold.

With no children, he set up a trust fund for his niece and sister, ensuring they would never want for anything a day in their lives. He had employed his brother-in-law and bought a house for his mother, so that she could live rent free and stress free for the rest of her life. Havenrock was perfect for them. It was a small community but full of life and culture and some of the best schools in the state.

When the nukes had started flying, Havenrock had collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Until the last bomb changed course at the last second and burnt the city to ash. He remembered watching the news in disbelief and howled in rage as the President came on to say all that could be done had been done. He had no bodies to bury, nothing to grab onto in memory except the letter left behind after a family gathering.

There was a darkness in his soul, born decades ago when he watched his mother reduced to charred bones and ash, and now it filled him, stretching his skin. He felt powerful with rage and had needed to find the person responsible. It had taken two years to find Felicity, to locate her online signature, to trace her movements, to monitor just who was and who she knew. Her marriage to Oliver Queen came as no surprise but it added in more complications and time to his planning.

But plan he did. Constructing his hidden room had taken a year, the cell had taken six months to build after that and the whole time, he tracked her. He knew what shampoo she bought, her shoe size, the way she recycled and didn’t recycle. There wasn’t a part of her life he didn’t know. The only thing he couldn’t figure out how to affect was her implant. He had tried a million different hacks, had tech geniuses try and hack it all to no avail. If he could have found a way to disrupt it without using an electromagnetic pulse, he would have but a bomb like that would have been too big of a move.

Turning his focus to her husband had opened up a world of opportunities. It was after reading about Oliver’s life, both before and after the Gambit sank that lead him to suspect he was the vigilante known as the Green Arrow. On a gamble, he decided to aim at Oliver first, with the body filled Gambit and wait for Felicity to step out from the shadows. Her desire to KNOW would always be her undoing.  
Looking at her now, and the way she was riveted to the story he was telling, he decided to tell her how he selected the family he slaughtered. He had taken his time with that mission and was proud of the patience he had exhibited in the process.

“When I found the chosen family, whose remains you found, I had to take my time to befriend them, to earn their trust. I paid their rent in the form of a prize from a raffle at the gentleman’s work that I sponsored. I rigged the game and from there, it was a walk in the park. I allowed them to think I was their friend,” he explained patiently, watching her growing horror with a maniacal glee, “The children adored me. I gave them gifts, money, I paid for groceries. I aided them to come out from under the yoke of their poverty and enjoy life in ways they had never even dared dream of. I transformed their lives...and then, after courting them carefully for eight months, I invited them onto my yacht.”

He paused and watched as Felicity gripped the edge of the cot she was sitting on. He was pleased to watch the colour drain from her face.

“Of course I had them meet me here for breakfast. They didn’t own a car, I believe it was sold so they could buy presents at Christmas time one year, so I picked them up in a rental vehicle. Luckily, one of my associates has access to a master forger. There was no way I would rent anything with my own name. There is no way I would rent anything period. For the right amount of money, you can buy anything or anyone in this city.” he said in a conspiratorial tone, as though she were partner in his crime, “It was easy to find a junkie to rent a van for me, arranged through a series of associates, of course. Then I drugged them. All of them, including the children.”

Here he paused. This was the best part. He had spaced the family members out around the room they were in and lit it with floodlights. The blood was a garish red and all the flesh, when split revealed the layers of creamy fat. It had ignited in him a viciousness that he had embraced.

“It took hours to dispatch them all. By the end, I was soaked in their blood. I stripped out of my clothes and allowed the blood to seep into my skin. When I was done, I had created a masterpiece but it was all practice for what I will do to you because I intend to kill you, I intend to strip you of your skin and humanity. I will feed you to my guests at my party on Monday night and my dogs on Tuesday. I am going to bathe in your blood, plunge my hands into your guts and rip them out with my teeth,” he bellowed, seized with a mind shattering rage, “I will drink your blood and eat your flesh. I am going to erase you from existence!”

His voice echoed off the cement walls, filling the cavernous space with rage and fury. It brought a smile to his face to feel the vibrancy of his outrage buffet his body. Images of a blood soaked room flashed before his eyes and he began to pant. He would create a masterpiece using her blood on the blank walls that surrounded him.

She was completely still. Her eyes were wide and her face looked like the white marble that he had laid throughout his home. He felt his cock begin to stiffen in his pants as he began to imagine the warmth of her blood, the sound of her skin splitting apart as he carved her to pieces and the cracking of her bones as he rendered her for marrow.

“I suggest that when I come back, you have a much better answer to my question,” he snapped and turned off the speaker and monitor.

He considered watching her a while longer but he needed to be in attendance at a board meeting and wanted to plan how he would divide the meat on her bones into the right amounts to cover the dishes he wanted to serve at the wine gathering. It filled him with a dark delight to know he was going to be feeding so many of Star City’s elite the flesh of a woman who could have ruled them for decades to come.

He all but skipped to the elevator and whistled a tuneless song as he traveled the two stories up to the main floor. He had more planned for her but for now, she could stew on his words. He giggled at the thought of her stewing and made a mental note to add that dish to the list.

 

Felicity  
I

She had woken up confused and cold. Her shoulder hurt from where the taser had made contact but it was the lingering effects of the sedative, introduced into her body via needle and syringe, that had proved harder to shake off. It had left her feeling as though she were drifting, deep underwater, her limbs weighted down and useless.

Casting her gaze around her, she took in the smooth white walls, the glass enclosed shower, metal toilet, sink, and the cot she was sitting on. It was a cell. A modern one, but a cell nonetheless. There was a narrow window opposite the cot but it wasn’t one designed to really see out of. She suspected it was used to spy on what was happening inside the cell.

Her trained eye spotted the cameras immediately as well as the speaker by the door. Her mind started to fire and she thought through all the possibilities of how the cell was wired. She could short circuit it if she had the right tools. She just needed to get a feel for who was on the other side of the walls.

Once his voice came over the speaker, she knew that her fate was no longer in her hands. The things he said to her made her blood ran cold. He was a monster. A vicious, evil monster. He wanted her to take responsibility for Havenrock but she would never do that. She had worked through her grief, guilt and sorrow. It had almost killed her and her relationship with Oliver. She had let go of all of that, as well as the souls of those taken in the blast, and had felt each one as they went to meet the after life.

Stanley’s rage at her refusal to say the words he wanted to hear had, in its way, played his hand. She was below ground, under his garage, and she had at least one or two days to live but if she worked fast, she could be out of her cell before the end of the night. All Felicity need was for him to leave so that she could prepare.

One thing that was a boon in her favour, was that she was still in the clothes she had on when she left the bunker. He had taken her bag, along with her phone, and any hope she had of turning a pen or key into a tool or weapon, but he hadn’t searched her. Her lipbalm was in a pocket on the inside of her pants waistband.

When he announced he was leaving, she had quickly tried to look through the narrow window. She could make a shadow out as it crossed the room. When it vanished into what must be an elevator, she got to work locating the cameras and smeared lip balm over the lenses. It may buy her a bit of time and privacy but she doubted it would save her life. That was something she would have to do on her own.

She hadn’t had time to update Oliver on everything she had found out about Stanley and she wasn’t sure he knew how to access her computer. The only thing she hoped he would do was initiate the tracking system she had managed to code into her implant. It was still in her back so she had the use of her legs but she wasn’t sure the signal was strong enough to penetrate the cell walls and get above ground. For all intents and purposes, she was on her own.

Take a closer look at her surroundings, she realized that he had installed a basic cot, one with springs. She could have shouted for joy when she saw them. Occe she got a spring free from the frame she could use it to make her way out of the cell. She could use it to open the door and at least make her way into a different room, she could find out how to get out of this hellhole.

Carefully, she pulled one free and immediately began to take the casing off of the speaker. It was wired into the door, a huge mistake but given the dimensions of the room and the possibility that it was constructed to be soundproof with outside controls for lights and temperature, there could only be one way to get a speaker in that served the dual purpose of letting him speak to her and her to him.

Throughout it all, she kept pushing the rising bile of guilt over Havenrock down. If she allowed it to invade her mind and heart again, it would drown her in the sorrow that she had worked so hard to relieve herself of. Oliver’s face rose up instead and she bit back the tears that were threatening to fall. If he could survive Lian Yu, she could survive this.

With a satisfying *POP*, the speaker’s cover came off and exposed the circuitry underneath. Her knowledge of computers and how to build them was what was going to get her out of this. As fast as the speed of light, she looked at how it was wired and how some wires ran out of the small casing to the door itself. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she had figured out the way the power for the speaker was delivered.

It was like the circuit that powered Ray’s suit. It was both a receiver of power and a deliverer of it. By disabling it, she would either lock the door in a way that guaranteed her death or it would open. With her fingers shaking just a little bit, and heart pounding, she pulled one red and one blue wire out, feeling the give of them as they were long and connected to something different than the speaker.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled them as hard as she could, feeling them bend and stretch. Finally, with one last hard tug, they came free, their ends shredded and ruined. Felicity paused and waited to see if something beyond the quiet click of the lock on the door disengaging.

No smoke or fire appeared. The lights remained on and the air continued to flow. Preparing herself as best she could, Felicity pushed on the handleless door gently at first but it refused to budge. She pushed it again, harder this time and felt a tiny bit of give. Taking a step back, she hurled her body at the door and with a snap, the lock released itself and the door opened.

She half expected to see her cannibal psychopath jailer waiting for her on the other side, knives and teeth at the ready. Instead, she saw only darkness, the faint outline of a chair and, illuminated by the light from the cell, the concrete floor.

Tentatively, but fearlessly, she stepped out of the cell and into a large, empty concrete room. Looking around her, she could see it was about the size of a very large ten car garage but looking up was where her blood ran cold. She couldn’t make out the ceiling, meaning the room was deeper than one story. If an elevator was needed, it had to be at least two or three stories below ground.

Quickly, she closed the door to the cell and made her way to the opposite wall. It was almost complete darkness, leaving her to walk through an inky blackness that moved around her and she welcomed its embrace. It meant she was safe for a moment, unless he had infrared cameras which spurred her on to explore for a door or opening to go through. If he did, she was caught but she might as well make it hard for him to to catch her.

After a few careful minutes of exploring the walls with her hands, she felt the very identifiable grain of wood. In this enormous room with its high tech veneer, there was one wooden door. She almost laughed out loud but then she felt the door handle. She wanted to turn it, to pull on it, to scream her joy as simply finding it but took a deep breath and cautiously explored the frame of it. She was trying to find wires or a panel, something to indicate it was wired to the security system of the house.

It was inconceivable to her, but after what felt like an eternity, she had to come to the conclusion that it was a simple door with no lock and no security. That could only mean it lead to another room which would undoubtedly be wired to the security system that ran throughout the house. But it could also hold the key to her rescue so, after taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and pulled.

Her knees went weak when it opened. The light beyond its threshold was slightly brighter and her heart raced as she caught a whiff of something approaching fresh air. Reaching forward, she found a wall to help guide her as she moved carefully forward. Her eyes adjusted to the light, bringing a bannister into view and what she took to be stairs.

If this was a stairwell that lead up, that could only mean there was a door at the top that either lead to the outside or another antebuilding for her to explore in the hopes of finding freedom. She had no choice but to go up and find out what was waiting for her. Closing the door behind her, she had an idea. Taking off her glasses, she broke one arm off and jammed it between the latch and the handle. It wasn’t as good as a lock but it would stop anyone from following her for a few minutes.

Gripping the railing, she made her way up the stairs. They were steep and rough, but she moved quickly and steadily upwards. Gauging her progress to being about halfway, she peered up and thought she could detect the outline of a door. Throwing caution to the wind, she increased her speed and climbed with haste towards what could be her freedom.

Suddenly, coming up from below, was the sound of someone pounding on the wooden door and howling with rage. Stanley roared at her, shouting threats as he threw himself at the door. She prayed that the plastic arm of her glasses held until she could get to the top of the stairs. The metal spring was still in her hand and could be used to try and pick the lock or even as a weapon to defend herself against the madman below should he manage to reach her.

She was a few steps from the top when the door below finally gave, the latch and arm snapped, allowing him to push into the stairwell and come up after her. In blind terror, she turned back towards the door in front of her and reached for it. A scream building in her throat.

Thoughts of Oliver flashed in front of her eyes. About the lives they could have lead, the love they had shared. If this was it, she was so grateful for the time they had been able to take to find each other. She had no regrets and she hoped he would feel the same if they never saw one another again. She hoped that he would find purpose in his life after she was gone. That he would continue the path he was on not for her, but for himself.

Tears streamed down her face as she made her way up the last few steps. Terror filled her, its black tentacles ripping her brave front to pieces as she listened to the footfalls on the steps of the madman as he raced towards her. She thought her end was coming until there was a muffled BOOM, a flash of light that blinded her, and then, almost mercifully, the comforting black nothingness of unconsciousness.

 

The Green Arrow  
II

He had packed lightly but with careful thought to what he might need once he got to the Dover Estate. His quiver was full of arrows divided equally between instruments of death and small C4 bombs that could punch a hole in the steel door at the side of the garage. He was positive it would lead him to an underground bunker of sorts and didn’t want to waste time finding a way to open it quietly. Blowing it off its hinges would create chaos for anyone on the other side of it.

He also loaded a gun from Diggle’s selection of firearms and strapped that to his thigh. It was a last resort should he encounter armed guards or dogs. Finally, before leaving on the Ducati, he strapped Felicity’s helmet to the back and made sure the small bomb he had wired was ready. It was going to provide a diversion for him as he was going to blow the garage up when he found Felicity.

Checking the time, he saw it was close to midnight. Every nerve in his body was firing. His skin was prickly and hot. Starting the Ducati, he checked the mobile sensor on his wrist. Still nothing. She was alive, he didn’t need a blue dot on a screen to tell him that, but it would have been comforting to see her implant come to life on the small screen.

With determination, he gunned the powerful engine on his bike and headed out of the garage. He took an indirect, circuitous route and found the side road he had spotted on the estate blueprints. It was a wireless deadspot according to the security firm’s analysis and their schematics showed it had motion detecting lights but nothing more. The seven foot fence beside it was electrified and razor sharp barbed wire was coiled the entire length of the top.

But there were no cameras of any kind. He knew how to disable the lights thanks to the hack Felicity had shown him how to use in order to find the information from the security company, and could use the light pole as a way to get over the fence without cutting a hole in it.

He had a planned route once he got on the other side. He had to follow it exactly in order to not trip any sensors on the way to the garage. The way out would be far different and much more violent. He was counting his steps, one after the other, until he reached the side of the garage. Sweat ran down his back despite the chill in the air and his heart was beating so hard he could hear it echoing through this blood.

This had to work or she was lost.

Silently, he crept along the wall of the garage, merging with the shadows, until he rounded the corner and found the stairwell. It was constructed with three feet thick concrete walls and a four inch thick reinforced steel door. He pulled three C4 tipped arrows from his quiver and loaded his bow.

He was about to fire them when the tracker on his wrist blinked into life. His knees buckled and he almost fell to the ground. She was alive and close by. Maybe on the other side of the door. It renewed his sense of purpose and he let the arrows fly. WIth a satisfying BOOM, the handle and lock on the door were obliterated.

The force of the bombs flung the door open and there she was. Reaching for the door or for him, he didn’t know, but there she was. All on her own she had managed to find a way to freedom. His heart felt ready to burst with the pride he felt. She was never helpless, not even in the face of what must have been certain death.

He stepped forward to catch her as she fell, the force of the explosion knocking her unconscious, and pulled her to him, lifting her up in a fireman’s carry. She would most likely shake off the grip of unconsciousness before they got to the fence, but for now it was the only option he had. He had just stepped clear of the crumbling doorwell when he heard it. A scream of rage so brittle and full of hatred that it stopped him in his tracks.

Whoever was coming up the stairs was full of a fury so righteous and damned, he could see and smell its physical form. It stank. Like fear and self-loathing and hatred. Slowly, Oliver selected a flechette that was a smoke bomb. With a flick of his wrist it was down the staircase, filling it with a noxious smoke.

Oliver ran for the fence, Felicity over one shoulder, his bow on the other. It freed his hand to press the timer button on his phone. In thirty seconds, the bomb would go off, leveling half the garage and hopefully exposing the room under it.

“Felicity. Wake up,” he said sharply after lowering her to the ground, “I need you awake.”

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused but alert.

“Oliver?” she asked, confused and concerned.  
“Yup, come on. We only have a few seconds before...” Oliver was cut off by the planned explosion behind them. They only had a few minutes to get away from the estate before police and fire rescue arrived.

Oliver notched a C4 tipped arrow and fired it at the fence, blowing a hole in it they could get through. He took her glasses off, wondering where the missing arm went, and helped her to her feet. They had met halfway on this, he thought, she had rescued herself more than he had rescued her and he was so immensely proud of her.

Sprinting through the hole in the fence, he lead her to his Ducati and handed her the helmet he had brought for her to wear. Without a word, they mounted the bike and sped away. Far in the distance, they spotted the flashing red and blue lights of the fire trucks as they raced towards Dover Estate.

Oliver hazard a glance behind him and saw smoke billowing up in a thick, dark column. Something was burning and he hoped it was the house. Felicity clung to him, he could feel her lingering terror and fear, it stuck to her skin, causing her to shake. His body felt battered by the time they pulled into the side garage.

As the door closed seamlessly behind them, and the pneumatic lock engaged, he turned the bike off and sat in quiet stillness. He waited for her tremors stop before taking his helmet off. He felt her take her helmet off and take a deep breath, trying to calm herself from the adrenaline rush in her bloodstream.

He checked his watch and saw that her rescue had taken forty minutes. Forty minutes. But that mad man had held her captive for fourteen hours.

His heart was pounding in a delayed reaction to the entire evening. He had managed to craft a plan, follow it and bring her home, all without drawing the attention of outside security forces. She wasn’t physically injured that he could tell, but she was damaged and he needed to find a way to help her.

The bike shifted under weight as she got off the back of the bike. He waited a moment before getting off himself to give her a minute to compose herself. What he wanted to do was hold her so he could make sure she didn’t have any hidden wounds but she had been through something horrific and knew he needed to wait for her to come to him.

“Do you have your phone?” she asked suddenly, a hint of panic in her voice.  
“I do,” he said.  
“Can I have it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled it out of his suit vest and handed it back to her and watched her hack her phone, and wipe it clean, right down to its factory settings. Luckily, he knew she had a back up phone that never left the bunker, that held the same information as her now bricked one. He could see her relief as she handed back his phone. He looked at his wife, the dirt on her face, the way she squinted without her glasses. She stood tall but he could see the wavering in her stance, the way her hands shook as she smoothed her hair out of her eyes.

Before he could speak, she blurted out, “I’m sorry, Oliver. I am so sorry.”  
“What?” he sputtered, “What are you apologizing for?”  
“I went out without thinking. I just...I thought…,” she faltered and crumpled soundlessly to the ground.

It was like her legs seemed to lose their ability to hold her up. It was almost elegant the way she fell. It took him so by surprise, that he failed to react to her falling. Normally, he would have managed to catch her or somehow prevent the fall altogether and for one terror filled second, he thought maybe her implant had stopped working.

He was on his knees in front of her about to ask when he saw that she was soundlessly crying, her body contorted in emotional, rather than physical, pain. His heart shattered. Whatever had happened in the fourteen hours she was in that monster’s hands had done damage to her heart and soul.

“Felicity, hey, Felicity,” he said in his softest voice, fear creeping around the edges, “Please...you have nothing to apologize for. This isn’t your prison or your home.”

He waited, helplessly, until she looked up at him and reached for his hands. Instead, he sat down beside her and pulled her to him in a tight embrace. He meant to comfort her but in the end, they clung to one another in tearful desperation, the adrenaline rush of the night finally leaving their bodies.

“I went to get cream,” she whispered, “And donuts.”  
“Your weakness,” he chuckled.  
“I left through the hotel,” she continued, “I stayed on the main street. Out in the open.”  
“You did nothing wrong, Felicity, nothing.”

They sat on the cold, concrete floor in silence. He could feel the tension in her body. She felt like a guitar string that had been over tuned, ready to snap. She was nowhere even close to being fine. The night was going to be long but he was equal to the task ahead.

Together, they stood up. Oliver ran his hands over her hair, pushing it back from her face. She was pale with dark circles forming under her eyes but otherwise, her eyes were clear and she looked like she was slowly coming back to life.

“Let’s go. I’ll make you some tea while you shower and change. I’ll start the fire and we can talk this through. OK?” he asked.  
“We should check and see what the damage was,” she answered, “I don’t think our work is done tonight.”  
“It should be but go and shower and change first. I’ll still make your tea.”  
“Oliver,” she said, stopping dead in her tracks, “I...I think I’m going to be sick.”

Alarmed, he looked down at her. Her pallor had taken on a greenish hue and her eyes were wide and full of fear. Moving quickly, he got her inside the bunker and to the sink by the kitchenette just in time. She threw up until only bile came out. With a shaking hand, she turned on the cold water faucet, rinsed her mouth out and splashed some on her face.

Her entire body was shaking hard enough to rattle the ground beneath their feet. Filling a glass with water, he held it in one hand and with the other, helped her to sit next him on the stairs that lead up to her workstation. She gripped his hand and arm, using his offered strength to help her walk the short distance. He heard her grateful sigh as they sat down.

“You need to get changed. I can sit here while you do,” she said quietly.  
“Are you sure?” he asked, handing her the glass of water.  
“I’ll be fine. I needed to throw up...to get rid of him from my system. Plus he tasered and drugged me,” she said, rubbing her shoulder where both the taser and needle had been applied.  
“Do you want me to call our trusted ER doctor? See if she can make a house call?”  
“You’d let her in here?” Felicity asked, dubious of his answer.  
“I’d have her meet us upstairs,” he said with a gentle nudge of his elbow.

Felicity leaned on his shoulder and he felt her relax just a little bit. He needed to keep it light and breezy until they turned on her computer system and got back to work. It was then that he realized she carried the smell of her tormentor and prison on her skin and clothes. Normally, she smelled exotic and floral but now there was something rotten attached to her, like spoiled meat. When she showered, he was going to take what she had on and throw it all out. She had plenty of leggings and sweatshirts in her closet, she wouldn’t miss what she wore tonight.

“Go,” she said firmly, “Go get changed out of your suit. I’ll wait here.”

With a nod, Oliver did as he was told. He was able to watch her as he stripped down and redressed the mannequin in the biometric case. She was drifting. Falling through her mind, back to the darkness she had climbed out of with a ferocity that filled him with pride, admiration and so much love. He needed her to find him through the darkness in any way she could.

“Felicity,” he called gently, trying to get her attention.  
“Hmmm?” she answered.  
“I wanted to tell you how absolutely proud I am of you. For finding a way to free yourself from that...from that monster,” he said as he walked back to her, dressed only in his compression shorts and UnderArmour shirt. He had found an old pair of slippers in the drawer under the case and had slipped those on to ward off the chill of the concrete floor.  
“I don’t know that I could have gotten that steel door open in time,” she said with a shake of her head, “He was so close to catching me. But then there was you…”  
“It was like we were running to meet each other...it didn’t feel like a rescue, more like an assist,” he finished for her.  
“Yes,” she smiled weakly, “an assist.”  
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand, “Let’s see what we’ve done.”

Rising in unison, they made their way to her computer. Felicity eyed up her keyboard area, and then looked at him. She was smiling ever so slightly as he tried to not look at her.

“I may or may not have slammed my fists down on the table,” he said with a shrug.  
“I’m impressed that everything is still in one piece,” she said, leaning over to kiss his shoulder.

The relief that flooded his body raised goosebumps all over him. She was slowly returning to herself. Her gentle kiss was a blessing. If it was the last time her lips touched him, he could die a happy man just for having loved her in this moment.

“I see you found your way through my system ok,” she said quietly, her eyes scanning a systems log on the side of the screen.  
“Barely. I thought I was going to have a stroke when it worked,” he admitted.  
“You did really well. You used the tracker in my implant to find me, too, didn’t you?”  
“I did. It kept blinking out but always around the Dover Estate,” he explained.  
“It was because of how deep underground I was,” she murmured, her eyes moving quickly back and forth between the screens.  
“Turn on the news. They must have something up on the explosion by now,” he suggested to her.  
“Ok. I am not finding anything online which is odd. It should be...somewhere. How much C4 did you use?” she asked.  
“About half a pound. I wanted to level his entire house but the garage was good enough,” he said grimly.  
“I love you,” she said softly, looking at him with undisguised emotion.

He felt his breath rush out of him. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear her say those three simple words. He remembered the first time she said them and how they had finally brought the last of his defenses crashing down around him. It was a moment he cherished almost as much as he cherished her. Looking at her now, he felt that same sense of renewal that is born out of chaos.

“I love you, too, Felicity. Enough to marry you,” he said with a wink.  
“Let’s not get carried away,” she chuckled.

Turning her attention back to her screen, she searched for anything she could find. Oliver watched the news and saw nothing, not even on the ticker that ran underneath the picture. An explosion that took out a ten car garage, leveling it to the ground, was not even mentioned during the entire telecast.

“Can you hack the police drones?” he asked.  
“Oliver….you wound me,” she said with a shake of her head.

With a few sure keystrokes, she was in and they were looking down on Star City from roughly five thousand feet. She took control of the drone on and flew it as close to Dover Estate as she could. What they saw was a scene of utter destruction. A huge, smoking crater came into view. The garage was gone but they couldn’t tell how much of the basement room had been destroyed or if Dover was in the ruins.

“How deep underground was the room, Felicity?” he asked carefully.  
“About three stories. There was an elevator here,” she said, pointing to a place on the screen where an elevator shaft should be, “but all I see is rubble.”  
“Can you get closer?”  
“I can zoom in.”

Still, even as they zoomed in closer to the devastation, all they saw was smoking rubble.

“Do you think that maybe he is dead?” she asked, her voice small and quiet.  
“I hope so but something tells me he is harder to kill than most,” he muttered, watching the tv screen, “Someone is keeping this quiet and I am betting the billions of dollars he has access to are helping the cause.”  
“I need to shower,” she said abruptly, releasing the drone, turning off her computer screen and leaving him alone in the centre of the comm centre.

He watched her walk away, her pace quick, almost panicked. He knew fear when he saw it. He watched the news a bit longer, checked online to see if news of it had slipped through the media cracks but nothing surfaced. It was a blackout.

Slowly, so as to give her time alone, he switched the lights off, powered down her computer, and all the while thought of what he was going to do now. What they were going to do about Stanley Dover. But first, he needed to know what happened while she was his prisoner.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver took one last look around, checked the security panel and then headed in to encourage Felicity to re-traumatize herself by sharing her night of horror with him. But first, he stopped to make her tea.

 

Felicity  
II

Felicity stood under the hot spray of the shower completely still. The rank stench of that underground room and cell slowly rinsed off of her body. She was processing what had happened to her, what he said and the moments leading to her escape. It had been a stroke of fortune that Oliver had been on the other side of the steel door. She knew she would have been caught again by Stanley had he not been able to blow a hole into it.

The ride back on the Ducati had rumbled life into her bones, moved her blood, and helped to clear her mind. But all she could hear in her mind was the thin, rage filled bellow of a madman. The things he had said to her, the terror he had inflicted in her had wormed its way deep into her mind. Her nightmares would be full of horror for the next few months.

“Can I come in for a quick rinse?” Oliver asked quietly from the shower opening.  
“Yes, please,” she answered, reaching back for his hand.  
“Have you washed your hair?”  
“I...I’ve just been standing here,” she said with a helpless laugh.  
“Well, let’s fix that. Your tea will get cold.”

Tenderly, almost reverently, he washed her hair, her body, and cleansed her mind and soul with his touch and love. Silently, he was asking her to prepare herself for what was to come and to place her trust in him, that he could see her through the storm. He could feel her terror but she knew he could also help her put it into context in order to let it go.

It was his instinct to surround her with love so that she could find her way out of the darkness that has shrouded her. She knew him well enough to know he was using the shower as cover, to give him a chance to check her over physically. There was a bruise on her left shoulder from the taser and a small needle mark just underneath that. Other than a could of scrapes on her knees, she wasn’t physically harmed in any other way.

“Come on, let’s get you that tea,” he said, leading her out of the shower.  
“Chamomile?” she asked as she wrapped herself in a large, fluffy towel.  
“With a little bit of honey,” he answered as he dried off.  
“Thank you,” she said softly.  
“Get dried off. Do you want to sit in the living room?”  
“No, let’s turn on the fireplace and pretend it’s keeping us warm in here,” she smiled wanly.  
“You got it.”

Felicity almost smiled as he left the bathroom but the tension of the wait, of knowing what was still to come, was eating away at the false sense of calm they had both being hiding behind for the last hour. Slipping on a shirt and shorts in lieu of pajamas, she let Oliver pour her a cup of tea from the insulated teapot they used in the bunker and set it on her bedside table.

They were both tired. The adrenaline rush of the day was finally gone and the strain of the day was settling, heavy and firm, on their bodies. She felt like she was drowning under the weight of it all and suddenly wanted to flee. To run and hide. To be anywhere other than here.

Oliver, in sweatshirt and matching sweats, had turned on the fireplace and dimmed the lights. Sometimes things were best said in the dark.

“I should put in fake skylights,” she mused, “So that we have the desert sky above us.”  
“We could do that?” he asked in disbelief.  
“We could. We will,” she smiled.

He gestured for her to join him on the bed, under the heavy woolen blanket they kept in the bunker for chilly nights. Grateful that she still had the ability to do so and climbed up onto the bed to join him.

“Thank you for the tea,” she said, taking a careful sip of the hot, sweet liquid.  
“You looked like you needed it,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “So skylight with no sky.”  
“It would be like televisions above our heads,” she explained, “Securely fashioned to the ceiling of course.”  
“Let’s do it. Order them and I’ll install them,” he said.  
“Deal,” she smiled, finishing her tea and settling next to him.  
“Ready?” he asked.  
“I guess I have to be,” she said ruefully.

Oliver fell silent beside her. He didn’t wrap an arm around her or sit in front of her, making her look him in the eye. Instead, he offered his hand and she slipped hers into it, accepting his comfort and strength.

“I didn’t see him coming,” she began, her voice quiet and uncertain, “One minute I was standing on the street corner, digging in my purse for my phone and then I was in a...box like cell. It was high tech but...basic. I could see the seams in the walls, there were edges were the walls met, like they were ill fitted. I could see the cameras in the walls and the speaker on the door. Everything was connected.”  
“Is that how you got out? By breaking the connection?” he asked.  
“Basically. He had put in an army cot, the kind with metal springs. I worked one free to use as a tool and then waited.”  
“For?” he prompted.  
“For him to stop talking. To leave,” she said, her jaw clenched.

This was going to be the hard part, she thought, reliving what that monster said.

“Felicity…,” he was nudging her gently but firmly through the story.  
“Oliver...he...he is a monster,” she whispered, gripping his hand tighter.  
“Tell me what he said.”  
“He wanted me to take responsibility for Havenrock. For his family that died there. For all of it,” she whispered, “But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t say what he wanted me to say. I thought about what we went through and how hard it was to let go. I enraged him, Oliver.”  
“What did he say, Felicity, tell me,” he urged her.

Felicity thought about what Stanley said to her. The viciousness of it, the intensity of his planning, how he had tricked the family into thinking he was their saviour. It still made her feel vaguely ill to think about but she took a deep breath and soldiered on.

“He confessed to having murdered the people in the Gambit. They were all one family. He did it...he did it himself. Every single person there, he slaughtered. He kept them alive and conscious, Oliver. Every single one. Alive until the end or they bled out. He made them beg for their lives and laughed at them as they died. But it was Havenrock that I was there for. His family died there, Oliver, all the people he loved in this world,” she continued, “But I wouldn’t take responsibility for them, Oliver. Their lives were lost the minute Darkh released the bombs.”

“But his rage…,” she faltered here, trying to figure out how best to tell him what he said to her in those moment when his guard slipped and the monster that lurked under his skin roared to life, “He told me how he was going to kill me. Much like how he slaughtered those people but...he went berserk. He was going to cannibalize me, Oliver. Feed me to Star City elite and then to his pigs. He was hated me just that much.”

She felt the way Oliver’s hands grew clammy. He was imagining the horror that had been waiting for her. She wasn’t diving deep into it. Stanley had been so unhinged when he bellowed at her, that she felt brittle and hyper aware of everything around her. The way they were breathing, the rattle and hum of the air circulation system, she could hear it all.

“He was going to render me with his bare hands, Oliver,” she continued, “And I think he was aroused by the thought of it.”  
“How do you mean?” he asked in a low, tense voice.  
“I think he is a sexual sadist. A psychopath. He is driven by hate with no regard for human life. He feels nothing. His rage is about control, not about feeling for his family and then something happened that he had no control over and he snapped.”  
“But the planning…,” Oliver mused.  
“Meticulous. He found out about me and proceeded to plan accordingly. Everything we have uncovered was basically him leading us through a maze like laboratory rats. Every move, the Gambit, all of it. The family was his masterpiece. I don’t think we will find all of their remains either. I have no doubt that he ate some of them. I assume he has a backup plan,” she said.  
“You think he’s alive?”  
“He is evil, Oliver. Evil. Worse than anything we have ever faced.”

He shifted beside her, pulling the blanket up around them, released her hand and slipped his arm around her. She could feel his body tense up, betraying his anxiety at the thought of what she had managed to escape.

“When I was in that cell, I was strangely calm,” she said, somewhat wistfully, “I thought, at first, that I had one maybe two days to figure out how to get out cell but after he started to speak to me, I knew I had to find a way out of it immediately. I hoped that you would figure out where I was, mount a defense, come and release me, but I couldn’t depend on it. I figured out I was deep underground and that made things more complicated.”  
“It did,” he agreed, “I wasn’t sure I could find a way in unless I went to a party he was going to be hosting on Monday.”  
“But you did, you figured it out.”  
“I wanted to just charge in,” he said somewhat ruefully, “I was furious but then I made myself stop and think like you.”  
“You did well, Oliver, really, really well. How did you know to go to that door?” she asked.  
“I found the original blueprints for the house and then I used your backdoor hack to get into his security firm’s server and found their blueprints and schematics. There was a mismatch in the shape of them. I noticed on the overhead view from the firm that there was an extension on the garage plus a note to install cameras in the stairwell and elevator shaft,” he explained, “Everything I found pointed to a basement under the garage and that could have been the only place he could hold you. The interference on your implant’s tracker was the clue to be honest.”

Felicity sat up and turned to face him. Oliver looked at her, confused and curious.

“Wow,” was all she could say.

“You taught me well,” he smiled.  
“Maybe but you did all that on your own AND managed to get to me before he did,” she said, her strong facade slowly weakening as the weight of realization began to sink in. If he hadn’t blown that door open, she would be dead.  
“And you busted out of a cell, one designed to keep you in, you found a way out,” he said, his voice full of admiration and awe.  
“I had this feeling that if I didn’t, something bad would happen. I didn’t think he was going to kill me but...I...I…,” she found herself unable to complete the thought. As she spoke it became more and more obvious that her fear in that moment was that he would take part of her body and eat it. Maybe even feed her own body to her.

Oliver, to his great credit, waited. He had taken hold of her hand as she spoke but made no move to do anything else. She could see he was like a coiled spring, ready to leap to her aid should she ask for it. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and forged ahead.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” she asked warmly.  
“How do you mean?” he asked, relief evident across her face.  
“Just this...we aren’t holding back on the details.”  
“Again, you taught me well,” he smiled, rubbing her hand between both of his.  
“I keep slipping back and forth between relief that I am free and feeling like throwing up as I remember the descriptions of how he killed all those people and how he was going to kill me,” she said softly, “If I couldn't have opened that door, I was going to use the metal spring to kill him.”  
“How did you get out?” he asked.  
“I used that spring to jimmy the cover of the speaker off. I had a feeling that the door was wired on one circuit. If you disrupt that circuit, the entire thing stops working. So I picked two wires that ran behind the main unit of the speaker and pulled,” she said, “It was a Hail Mary, Oliver. I was trying so hard not to panic. I honestly thought he was going to take part of my body and...and...”

This time Oliver gave in to the instinct and pulled her back to him. She happily allowed it as images of horror to rival anything produced by French artist Théodore Géricault were flying through her mind. He had described killing children to her in such detail, she was sure her dreams would be soaked in blood and gore.

“We need to report this to the police on some level, Oliver,” she said quietly, “He can’t be allowed to get away with that level of slaughter in life or death.”  
“I know,” he sighed, “Tomorrow we can figure out just what to do.”  
“I am going to go through the police logs tomorrow and the fire response. See what I can find,” she murmured, drowsy and warm.  
“We will,” he said, “And then, I owe you a dinner.”  
“Oliver...this was a close call,” she said quietly, trying to not disrupt the bubble of calm they had created, “He was so close to...to fulfilling his twisted form of destiny.”  
“I know.”  
“How are you?” she asked, her hand warm in his, “I want to know.”

He had moved one of his hands to her hair, playing with the damp strands as he thought how to answer her. She was so familiar with the sensation that found herself slowly drifting away into the turbulent arms of sleep.

“I almost called John,” he said, bemused and sad all at once, “But I knew that would add to his worry.”  
“Any other day, I would say we dodged a bullet,” she murmured.  
“I think we rose to the occasion,” he chuckled, “And I am so glad you are able to not take on the Havenrock guilt like he wanted you, too.”  
“It was hard, Oliver,” she said, her voice sounding tiny to her ears, “I still feel that, in my heart and soul.”  
“I know but you let go of it for a very good reason.”  
“Heaven knows…”

They lapsed back into silence, her studying their joined hands, him playing with her hair. She was exhausted and needed to sleep if she could. Her mind made up, she pushed herself up and got off the bed.

“I need to sleep, Oliver,” she said sadly, “ I am exhausted. I’ll brush my teeth and be right back. OK?”  
“Of course,” he said, his brow furrowed.  
“Don’t worry,” she smiled, coming to his side of the bed to give him a soft kiss, “We can still cuddle.”

His laugh followed her out of the room. She was grateful for it, it was music to her ears, but she made her escape just in time. The look on his face, the way he had stopped himself from following her out, from reaching for her, spoke to his unspoken fear. He had thought he lost her to a sadist the likes of which they had never seen, and it raked her raw to think of how close they had come to never seeing each other again.

The tears she had held back as she spoke began to fall as she brushed her teeth. They had come so close and yet, it was their lives to be in this constant state of worry when they were out of each others sight. But what she was trying so hard to contain was the remembered guilt, shame and grief of Havenrock. The mere mention of it was enough to unmoor her from her world and push her into the abyss of death. She splashed her face with cold water to ease her red, swollen eyes, and went back to join him.

Oliver was already in bed, having stripped down to his boxers, and was waiting for her. Slipping off her leggings, she climbed into bed and his open arms. Sleep was already pushing away consciousness and she barely had the mind to utter a goodnight to him before she let herself go. Her last waking thought was about how appropriate it was that she slept bottomless and he slept topless. Even in sleep, they had to be equally balanced.

 

 

Oliver  
III

He envied her falling asleep so quickly but she had been through an ordeal that could have ended so very badly and she deserved the peace of sleep. However, he was still vibrating with unprocessed rage and unspoken fear. The shower hadn’t helped, the talking had only increased his anxiousness and the warmth of her body pressed into his was not as comforting as it usually was.

He needed to get up and move. To burn some of this energy out of his system but he waited for the familiar rhythm of her breathing while in deep, dreamless sleep to begin before slowly shifting away from her and out of bed. Silently, he picked up his clean workout clothes and headed out to the bunker.

It was late, far too late for a workout but he needed to DO something. He checked the 24-hour news channel and still saw no sign of the explosion which set his stress level off to an even higher degree. He felt like he was having an anxiety or panic attack and needed to take his mind off of the way it felt to be completely powerless where she was concerned. Again.

Forgoing the workout, he set about cleaning his quiver and replacing the arrows he had used earlier. They were mostly all trick arrows but he never liked to see his supplies dwindle. It was a nearly lesson from Lian Yu and Yao Fe. Being unprepared could mean death for himself or others.

Going over his weapons cache was just what he needed. His mind didn’t so much switch off but drift so that he could focus on a task that required his sole focus. Time slipped past and only when his eyes felt gritty did he pause to check his watch. It was closing in on four am and he knew he should try to get a few hours sleep. Even if all he did was lie down beside her until she woke up, he could pretend he’d slept as well.

One last check online and tv showed no reports of an explosion or fire at the Dover Estate. On one level he was impressed but on another, he was deeply worried. This kind of power was wielded by only the most powerful in the nation. He had literally silenced the media and police. They would have to plan their next attack very carefully and by no means could he leave her alone anymore. The stakes had been raised and he was sure she knew it.

As he walked through the bunker to the apartment, he felt more relaxed. He would never relax completely, not until Dover was captured or dead, but he didn’t want to add to what Felicity was experiencing. She wasn’t being completely truthful with him but he knew and understood her. She would tell him in time.

Felicity was still deeply asleep. He wasn’t even sure she had moved since he left. With a quiet chuckle, he made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He had a routine when he was exhausted and he could feel it creeping up on him. Little by little, every action became more difficult but was absolutely necessary. Even brushing his teeth seemed to wind him. He felt detached from his body, from the world around him. He watched himself from a distance as he slowly made his way to their bed.

So much for being a superhero, he thought, getting old isn’t going to be easy.

Slipping back into bed beside her, he settled onto the plush bed with a grateful sigh. Their beds were always ridiculously comfortable. The air had cooled in the bedroom but the duvet was warm and soft. Within a few minutes, his eyes fluttered closed and he joined her in sleep.

His dreams were troubled, full of unsettling images of dismembered bodies and the sound of Felicity screaming his name. Sometime after dawn, he finally slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep where his body recharged and renewed itself. He had only really begun to sleep this way after he and Felicity began their relationship.

He felt safe in bed with her. Safe enough to sleep in stillness, without dreams or nightmares. They still came, unbidden and violent, but less and less as time went on. His PTSD and his subconscious were no longer in control and he had her to thank for it.

Sometime later, he stirred, thinking he heard someone crying. He bobbed on the surface of sleep, listening for what called him back to wakefulness. He felt the weight and warmth of Felicity’s body. During their time asleep, they had shifted positions so that he was on his side and her back was to him. Without opening his eyes, he gently circled her waist with his arm.

Feeling no tension in her body, Oliver slipped back under the surface of sleep and let himself relax into it.

It was her nails raking furrows in his arms that brought him barrelling awake. She was gripping in a nightmare but she wasn’t making a sound, she was only clawing at him and the bed as though fighting her way out of swamp. There was desperation and pain in every movement.

Immediately, he pulled her to him and let the rise and fall of his chest against her back be the calming influence he knew she needed. Slowly, it worked. Her panicked breathing evened out and she stopped thrashing but it woke him up enough to know sleep had escaped him. The clock on the side table said it was just after ten am, meaning he had slept longer than usual.

Felicity was still in a deep, troubled sleep. She was mumbling something under her breath, something about white walls, a small window, Havenrock, and then she sighed and fell silent. Stanley had found the one wound that would never heal in her.

“Mmmmareyouawake?” she mumbled, still struggling to shrug the mantle of sleep off.  
“Just,” he mumbled back.  
“Did I wake you?”  
“No, I’ve been awake for a few minutes,” he soothed her.  
“I was having the worst dream,” she murmured, snuggling closer to him.  
“Havenrock?” he asked carefully.  
“So I did wake you up,” she said sadly.  
“It’s ok, Felicity, I am the one person you can wake up anytime, anywhere.”  
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of those nightmares.”  
“You went through something awful,” he said quietly, “and when you are ready, you can tell me the parts you are leaving out.”  
“Damn you, Oliver,” she chuckled, “You know me too well.”

He smiled at her attempt to deflect and kissed her shoulder. He was loath to get up and start their day, she was warm and relaxed in his arms. He had made an effort not to shield her from everything that entered their lives, but in this quiet moment that was all he wanted to do.

“We should get a move on it,” she sighed, “We have a lot of work to do today.”  
“We do and it is almost eleven am...you get ready. I need to get in touch with William,” he said, flinging back the covers.  
“Tell him I love and miss him. I’ll talk to him later on, ok?”  
“You got it. If we get through what I think we need to get through, I say we spend tomorrow in bed.”  
“You will get NO argument from me,” she said with a wink.

With the day loosely agreed to, they both got up before the rest of the day past them by.

 

Felicity  
III

She had a quick shower to wake herself up. She still felt groggy, like a fog was wrapped around her mind, making it hard to think beyond the moment she was in. It was her fear that the drug he had injected her with had yet to work itself out of her system. In the chaos of the events of last night, she had forgotten to test her blood.

“I made some breakfast!” Oliver called from the kitchen.  
“Is it portable?” she called back.  
“...Yes.”  
“Meet me in the bunker,” she said as she walked past him.  
“What’s up?” he asked as he loaded a tray with berries, granola and yogurt.  
“I am still feeling...groggy from whatever drug he gave me, so I want to test my blood to see what he injected me with.”  
“Do you think we should call the doctor?” he asked, following her out.  
“Not yet. I think food will help. I am starving,” she groaned.  
“Go test and I’ll meet you at comms.”

Felicity crossed to her science station and noticed the almost hyper organized the state of his weapons station. It had been less organized and stocked last night which meant he couldn’t sleep and was out here doing what he needed to in order to relax.

She watched him as he brought coffee and food up to their workstation. He looked rested now but he was god at masking both his worry and his concern. It would take about an hour for her blood analysis to run so she had time to question him.

“I am so looking forward to the coffee I know you have ready for me,” she called as she rejoined him.  
“I do,” he said with pride, handing her a large mug.  
“Ahhhh…,” she said after a bit sip, “I love you.”  
“Me? Or the coffee?”  
“Mmmm…,” she said indecisively.  
“Brat.”

She laughed, feeling more and more clear headed by the minute, and booted up her servers and computer. Oliver had turned on the tvs and was surfing from channel to channel, looking for any mention of the explosion and fire. Finally, as frustration was setting in based on the set of his shoulders, he found a community station from Opal City that was reporting on it.

They both stopped what they were doing to listen to the reporter in the studio provide a brief account of a ‘large fire and explosion on the outskirts of Star City’. The film they played was grainy, like it was done on a phone and not with a proper camera, and showed billowing smoke and the red flashing lights of the fire trucks.

The reporter went on to explain that so far there were no casualties and that the owner of the home was away on business at the time of the explosion, which was accredited to a gas leak but was now fully contained. All of that was a lie meaning Dover had survived by some miracle and had created a narrative to satisfy any concerned neighbours.

Felicity could hear a strange pounding building all around her. It was loud and insistent, growing more so with every breath she took. The room began to dim, confusing her until she realized it was her heart she was hearing in her ears and she was hyperventilating.

“Oliver…,” she said, wavering just a bit on her feet, “The things that man is capable of…”

He was at her side in a flash, helping her to her chair safely without her falling or dropping her coffee. She was thankful but had lost her ability to speak. Stanley was still alive and out there somewhere, waiting to strike. Felicity knew in her bones that he wouldn’t hold her prisoner again, not even for a short while. No, she knew if he got his hands on her once more, he would kill her immediately.

“Oliver…,” she finally choked out, “What are we going to do?”  
“Find him. We will find him,” he said firmly, “and when we do, I am going to kill him. I want you to be prepared for that. He’s killed a dozen people.”  
“More. He killed his father and wife. Oliver...he’s been murdering anyone who gets in his way for decades,” she said quietly. She was afraid to speak too loudly for some reason, like her voice would summon him in the bunker.  
“Then he won’t be taken alive. Not by me. Not by the police. So I will bring his insanity to an end. Are you ok with that?” he asked. She knew if she said no, he would honour her request but that isn’t how she felt. Stanley Dover would only be stopped if he were dead.  
“Yes,” she said softly and she meant it, “I know I should encourage you to find another way but after what he did to that family...Oliver, I have to figure out who they were.”

In the silence that followed her agreement, they listened to the whirl and clicks of the servers she had built and installed, making them virtually invisible to the rest of the internet. For her it was a lullaby, a soft song that calmed her just as effectively as Oliver’s hand slowly rubbing her arm. He was grounding her in a fundamental way.

“Then let’s get to work,” he said softly with a nod.

Turning to her computer, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath and slowly let it out just as Oliver had showed her to do to calm her heart beat and centre her mind. There was no easy way through the work at hand. They would each have to break off tasks to do, leads to run down and figure out how to find the Glades family’s identity and report Dover in a way that would be believed.

She hadn’t been in his grips for long but it was long enough for her to see the evil that resided in his heart. He was not a good man or even one who was redeemable. He was past saving, past help, he was in a special category reserved for those who had no place in the human race. He was animalistic, violent, incredibly smart but he had the fatal flaw of most true psychopaths: he believed that he was the smartest person in the room no matter who was there with him.

Stanley had figured on killing her so he had no compunction to hide the things he had done. He was gleeful, boastful and careless. Not only in what he admitted to but in how he had constructed her cell. It had been so easy to figure out how to escape, a really smart child could have done it but he was proud of the way he’d made it. Felicity was positive he thought it was the most glorious thing ever created and her escaping so easily would push him straight into a madness that would lead to more violence and death.

Behind her, Oliver was searching the news stations and digging through police files. He didn’t tell her exactly what he was looking for but it had to do with the reports out of the Glades. There had been nothing in the news about an entire family going missing, no reports of abandoned apartments or homes. Nothing.

“Felicity,” Oliver called over to her, “did Stanley say anything about how he handled the housing of the family?”

She thought about it for a moment, going over everything he had said to her but couldn’t remember him saying anything about it, “No, he left that part out. He did say that he rigged a contest that the father had entered. I think it ended up paying for their rent for a year.”  
“So he bought their loyalty,” Oliver said flatly.  
“Yes, he did. It was systematic how he courted them. Paying for small things, big things, taking them on the yacht...he gained their trust and then slaughtered them.”

They sat in silence, not moving or making any attempt to touch each other like they did when needing comfort. Felicity’s skin felt prickly and cold. She could put herself in the family’s shoes. When she was growing up, poor with a single mom, the idea of being able to afford simple things and paying bills on time would have been a dream come true. All it would have taken was one promise of something scientific for her to have thrown caution to the wind and put her full trust in anyone who could make that dream come true.

Stanley took a family’s desperation, manipulated their trust, and ended their lives. It was a nightmare to even try and think about but they needed to find out who they were so that they could be properly buried and mourned.

“Hey Oliver, look at school districts in the Glades and see if you can find records for any children being reported as truant or sick...maybe we can find them that way.”  
“Ok, but what are you looking for?” he asked.  
“I am looking through the reports of Emergency rooms and trauma centres, trying to find something...if he was dead, there would be a record of body retrieval. If he was badly injured, there would be a report of that...even if he was taken in under another name or identity, there would be something.”  
“He is beyond wealthy, Felicity. He would have a private physician and access to clinics that are all stainless steel and shiny white proprietary plastics,” Oliver said quietly, “Most likely he paid for them himself so that he could make use of them whenever he needed to.”  
“I’m going to find him, Oliver. I am going to make sure he never hurts anyone else ever again,” she said through clenched teeth.

Oliver scooted his chair over to her and turned her to face him. She could see the concern in his eyes and felt the intensity of his shared anxiousness in the way he held her hands.

“We will find him,” he said earnestly, “We will find him together.”  
“We will,” she agreed.  
“Then you dig into the private clinics in the area and I am going to figure out how to get into his estate to look for the room he held you in. We have it in one news report, so I am going to send a request to have the land inspected.”  
“You can do that?” she asked incredulously.  
“I found an obscure bylaw in the city charter,” he said sheepishly.  
“You are amazing.”  
“I do my best,” he smiled, “You concentrate while I get the request sent to the City’s Engineer.”

Feeling better, she got to work and began a systematic search of all private clinics in a one hundred mile radius. She started at the edge and worked inwards. It took her two hours but she found it. Gripping the edge of her work station, she read a description of man being admitted into the Winston Private Medical Clinic in a small town twenty miles outside of Star City.

The patient had injuries consistent with being hit with shrapnel from an explosion and impact injuries that resulted in broken bones. A coma had been medically induced and the patient moved to an undisclosed location for monitoring and surgery.

“Oliver...I found him...or at least I found out he is alive,” she said quietly, her voice full of tension and thinly disguised rage.  
“Where?” he asked, at her side immediately.  
“He was taken to the Winston Medical Clinic in bad, bad shape and then moved. I am trying to find where.”  
“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly.  
“I’ll let you know when I find out where he is,” she murmured, studying her screen.

She didn’t notice Oliver leave her side until the enticing aroma of coffee and toasted bread drifted up to her. Her stomach growled in response but she was too invested in tracking down where he ended up. On a whim, as she was hacking into the GPS units on the Clinic’s private ambulances, she did a deep search on the Federal Aviation Agency’s Registry. There were several databases she called up and tried to find the connections between airplanes, airports and owners.

The ambulance she thought was the one used to transport Dover, had left the clinic at 5 am and drove at high speed to the Star City Regional Airport. At 5:45am, a plane with the registration of N3920Z had taken off with a registered flight path taking them out of the continental United States and into Swiss airspace.

He had slipped their grasp for the moment but at least the city was safe.

“He’s gone,” she said simply, turning to face Oliver.  
“What?” he asked both surprised and confused.  
“He was taken to Winston Clinic and then flown out of the country. I am willing to bet major dollars on him being disfigured and majorly messed up,” she explained, “He won’t be back for a while.”  
“Good. That gives me time to get in and look at his garage. Which, as luck would have it, will be on Monday.”  
“That was quick! How’d you manage that so fast?” she asked, genuinely surprised.  
“Being Mayor has its privileges,” he said with a wink.  
“You are awful,” she said with a shake of her head.  
“Keep going, here’s some coffee and a sandwich. I have a few things to do this afternoon,” he said, handing her a mug of coffee and a plate with one of his amazing creations on it.  
“Are you leaving?” she asked hesitantly.  
“Just the room,” he said over his shoulder as he left the comm centre.

It was irrational to think she was alone in the bunker just because he had left the main room for the apartment, she knew that deep down, but it didn’t stop the rush of fear that surged through her veins. The spectre of Stanley Dover hung in the air regardless and would until he was either dead or buried in an ARGUS prison cell on Lian Yu.

To distract herself, she let her mind wander through loose ends and threads as of yet unexplored. She ran traces on shell companies, looking for how funds were being siphoned off by Dover, she examined building permits in surrounding towns until she found an anomaly. In the small village of Nassau, roughly fifty miles from Star City, a building was being constructed that stood out for the size of it and the materials used in its construction.

It was owned by J. Temple, Holdings LTD. and being built by JTH Builders & Associates. She didn’t even have to wonder what JTH stood for or who owned it. What she wanted to now was what it looked like inside and its purpose. For that she needed to find out who the architect was and where the blueprints were located.

Felicity sat back and thought for a minute. He wouldn’t allow for the blueprints to be held in Star City’s databases, nor in any town close by, it would have to be some obscure hamlet within five miles of the village, state law required it. She cast her cybernet out over web and few minutes she found it.

The firm was called SD Architecture. She shook her head at the lack of creativity. He was so confident, so sure of his superiority, that he expected no one would figure out the trail. It took her five more minutes to hack her way through the town of Logan’s very poorly protected system. Their server was so easy to access, she wasn’t sure she had actually made it in. She triple checked her work and sure enough, she had access to everything.

Once she found the building permits and blueprints, she hit print and then carefully left their database so that no trace of her was left. Once that was done, she tracked the private airplane that was transporting Dover to Switzerland and what would happen once he was on the ground. The plane was due to land in at the Neuchâtel-Colombier airport. From there he would be transported in a private ambulance to a clinic that specialized in plastic surgery and major injuries.

She was right. He had been seriously injured but had contingency plans in place if he were unable to communicate or was injured in some way. He was a mastermind but not for her. It would take some doing to infiltrate the private hospital’s records and system, but it was possible. All she needed was the right backdoor left open by some unwitting coder and she would be in.

“Hey Felicity!” Oliver called from behind her.  
“Yeah?” she called back.  
“I think I found the Glades family,” he said as he climbed the stairs to rejoin her, “I needed to make a few calls but I, as it turns out, the School Superintendent was already looking for four kids of the same family. The mother said they were going on a holiday, to treat the kids, and they just never came back.”  
“Do you have their names?” she asked quietly.  
“I just sent you the file,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could muster, “It has addresses, names, employment records...Felicity, he really did pick a family hit by some hard, hard luck.”  
“He picked them and slaughtered them,” she said grimly.

According the file, the four children lived in a small house with six adult family members, including their paternal grandparents. So that meant the other two bodies, while possibly related to the children, did not live in the household.

“We need to get this to the Medical Examiner. If the two bodies outside of the ones who lived in the same house are related, we need to find out where they came from, who they are...Oliver, I don’t think we are going to find all of them.”

He looked at her with so much intensity, she felt her skin begin to warm. He said nothing, only nodding his agreement, before sitting back in his chair to read her screen. She was feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of what Stanley may have done to the remains but needed to put a package together that Oliver could send to the ME.

“You figured a lot out today, Ms. Smoak,” he said approvingly, “What is this bunker?”  
“Bunker?” she asked, distracted by the file she was sending.  
“Yeah, this building. It looks like a cross between a bunker and a prison.”

After hitting send on her email, Felicity joined him at the larger screen she had sent the blueprints to. He was right. It was a cross between a bunker and a prison. When she scrolled down, they both froze in place. Underneath the floor that held the cells was a dungeon. It was a sadist’s playland if what they were looking at was correct.

“Oliver…”  
“I see it.”

What had caught her attention was the area labeled ‘Dissection Lab’. Her breath grew rapid and short as she studied the screen. Dover was building his own murder palace, for lack of a better term, and disguising it as a medical research lab.

“I feel sick,” she said, her voice sounding thin and tinny to her ears.

Oliver immediately sat her down and made her lean forward to put her head between her knees.

“Deep breaths,” he said softly, rubbing her back, “Take deep breaths.”

Felicity closed her eyes and called up the memory of Ivy Town, of their happy home filled with light and love, of the patio and gourmet meals, of how often they spent laying in bed just because they could. She remembered the smell of lavender and sweetpeas from their garden and the way the neighbourhood kids always came looking for Oliver to play baseball with them. She remembered how idyllic it was but also how happy they were just to love one another.

“I’m ok,” she said eventually, “Thank you.”  
“I think we’ve done what we can today,” he said softly.  
“We need to search his house.”  
“Legally. Yes, we do. It’s in the works,” he said quietly, smoothing her hair back.  
“I need some fresh air. Let’s go upstairs,” she murmured, caressing his face.  
“That is a very good idea. You head up. I’ll follow in five with dinner. Sound good?”  
“Sounds amazing,” she smiled and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss.

After the horror of the last twenty four hours, fresh air and food wouldn’t cure all but it would help ease their frayed nerves. Their hidden garden was magical and theirs alone. The second she stepped foot into it, she instantly felt lighter. It gave her the hope she needed to carry her through what she knew would be the incredibly stressful days ahead.

 

Oliver  
IV

He watched her walk towards the elevator, the tingling sensation of her kiss still lingering on his lips, and let the worry and concern he was holding back come flooding out. The enormity of the bullet that she had dodged made his skin crawl. A cold sweat had broken out on his skin the instant the elevator doors closed. Dover was an evil, sadistic and true psychopath.

Shaking his head, Oliver took a deep and headed into the kitchen to plate their dinner on a tray for ease of transport. He had opted for a vegetarian dinner after her description of what Stanley had in store for her should he have had the chance.

It might be a while before they could look or eat meat but he could make a killer feta and spinach omelette with spicy hashbrowns and roasted corn for dinner. He was going to roast kale but decided to wait for another night to serve her that. It was an act of self-preservation to be sure, but he wanted to give her good, nourishing food to eat.

Satisfied with the tray, he made his way up to join her in their garden. She had turned on the outdoor fireplace and plugged in the faery lights that he had strung all the way around the enclosed space, giving it a soft, hazy warm white glow.

“So what have you got for us tonight?” she asked, making room beside her on the couch.  
“My famous feta and spinach omelette with all the trimmings,” he said with quiet pride.  
“You spoil me.”  
“It is my absolute honour to do so,” he said as he set out their plates, cutlery and opened their bottles of water.  
“Oooo bottles of artisan water!” she exclaimed, bringing her signature good humour to the surface for the first time that day, “I am truly honoured.”  
“I knew I should have brought tap water in a carafe,” he sighed.

Her laugh rang out, echoing softly back to them. The soft scent of roses and lilies flooded the space and created a small slice of heaven for him as he listened to her. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to grip it tight to ward off the evil that had invaded their lives.

“This is amazing, Oliver. You’ve outdone yourself,” she sighed as she ate.  
“I figured we’d need something good to eat tonight.”  
“The day slipped away, didn’t it?”  
“It did but we covered a lot of ground and answered a lot of questions,” he said, sitting back after finishing his meal.  
“I am trying to not bolt down to the bunker to keep working,” she said with a soft chuckle.  
“I know,” he said wrapping an arm around her, pulling her back to rest against him on the couch, “but there is always time to look up at the sky and watch the stars.”

He felt the tension melt out of her body as they laid back and spied on the universe through the opening above their heads. The moon had risen during the day so the night was dark and the sky full of life and light. Oliver remembered their time under the Southwestern desert sky and the way their hearts had connected.

“Oliver?” she asked, her voice sleepy and quiet.  
“Hmmm?”  
“We should go camping again. Maybe back to Mesa Verde.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. She could read his mind even when in the midst of the violence their lives always seemed to find.

“I agree,” he said softly.  
“After a week or two in Klamath,” she said quickly.  
“Are we ever going to take William there?” he asked.  
“Maybe. I like that it is ours,” she said somewhat wistfully.  
“Me, too.”

They lapsed back into an easy silence, watching the sky, searching for a life and meaning. He wanted to erase the horror that Stanley Dover had brought down on Star City. He wanted to reach across the expanse of time and space, to rip that man from existence. Instead, he gently rubbed his wife’s back, listened to her breathing and feeling every muscle in her body as it sought the peace that comes from releasing stress.

Felicity pushed herself up and looked down at him, reaching to gently feel the stubble on his cheeks, the smoothness of his brow. She wasn’t saying anything, she was studying him. Memorizing every line, scar and mark on his face. It spoke volumes to him to watch her eyes, iridescent and swirling, take in every imperfection and make them perfect under her gaze.

“You keep the monsters at bay. Did you know that?” he asked.  
“How do you mean?” she asked, her voice a delicate collection of colours.  
“Nothing can touch me when you are next to me. Not here or in here,” he said tapping the side of his head.  
“I think tonight, I will need you to keep the monsters at bay for me,” she murmured, her eyes having fallen to rest on his lips.  
“I am so glad I married you.”  
“You sure got lucky,” she smiled.  
“Help me clean up?”  
“I suppose,” she sighed.

It was a strategic move on his part to get them back into the bunker and into the apartment. It’s not like making love to her under the stars wasn’t something he wanted, but he didn’t want to be rushed. Not after what she went through. He needed to connect to her body just as much as she needed to connect to his.

“We should send flowers to Lyla,” she commented as they cleaned up the kitchen.  
“I hope they are doing alright. I’ll give Dig a call tomorrow.”  
“I won’t lie, part of me thinks Dover poisoned Lyla’s mother-in-law, to get him away from us.”  
“Felicity,” he said, taking her hands in his, “I did, too.”

She stepped in close and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest, “We think a lot alike.”  
“We do,” he murmured, slowly losing the thread of the conversation as she ran her hands up and down his back.

They stood in the silence of the kitchen and took the time to breathe. It felt like his first true deep breath of the evening. Her body was relaxed and warm, pressed tightly against his own. She flowed around his sharp edges, rounding out his corners, filling the empty spaces with all that her heart could offer.

Running his hands down her arms and then back up to her face, he tilted her head back so that she could see him before saying, “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”  
“I know,” she whispered, “Even though I know it won’t always be possible.”

He felt her sadness and unending belief in him, even when he was promising the impossible. Leaning down to bridge the gap between them, he kissed her, long and deep. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue touched his lips, pulling him into her. He was always so helpless when she did this.

With some effort, he clawed his way back to the present and said quietly, “Felicity, are you sure?”  
“What do you mean?” she asked confusion crossing her face in a subtle ripple.  
“This...you had a traumatic night last night,” he said, concerned but very aware of the heat pouring off her body.  
“It might sound odd,” she said sheepishly, “but I don’t want this, I need it. I need you. I...I need to feel connected to my body, to you.”

She was looking up at him, her eyes wide and bright. If she asked him to bring her a piece of the moon, he would find a way to reach it, to give her that gift. When she looked into him like this, he felt laid bare and gladly handed his heart and soul to her. Anything was possible when she truly saw him.

“Just...tell me what you need me to do,” he whispered, unsteady on his feet the longer she locked him in this embrace.  
“Just love me, Oliver,” she said softly, a tear slowly falling down her cheek, “That’s all I need.”

Cradling her face in his hands, he gently wiped her tears away and then leaned down to kiss her. At first it was tender, gentle and deep, but grew desperate, messy and full of desire. She hummed in contentment and he felt his knees shake.

“Come on,” he said breathlessly, “before I fall down.”

She slipped her hand into his and followed him back to their bedroom. He understood what she was asking of him, it was profoundly rooted in the way she had been forced to think of her own death. Dover had attempted to strip her of her humanity and now she was asking him to anchor her once more to herself and to him.

He crossed to the light panel and turned on the fireplace. He hadn’t yet told her that he ordered the artificial skylights she had mentioned. It was going to be a surprise for her when the night sky came into view. He just hoped he could install them without her seeing him do it.

When he turned around, she was watching him with a small smile on her face. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach as he walked back to her. The promise of her was sometimes all it took to for him to feel that familiar tightening in his pelvis, the rush of heat in his blood.

There was no rush tonight, no crisis to attend to or villain to track down since he was currently in a coma half a world away. No, tonight it was just the two of them in their underground room, hidden away from the rest of the world.

Carefully, he pulled her sweatshirt up and off. She looked so tiny in her tank top, like a living doll, but he knew better than to think she was defenseless or weak. With every experience, good or bad, she grew stronger, more powerful than anyone he had ever known and he was so thankful to be able to say he was her husband.

Lightly trailing his fingertips down her arms, he felt her shiver and watched her eyes unfocused just a little bit.

“I’ve always loved the way your skin feels, just here,” he said in a low, deep voice, “along the inside of your arm.”

Oliver stepped closer to her, moving his hands down her body. He leaned down so his mouth was next to her ear and said extremely softly, “It is soft, like the inside of your thighs.”

Felicity turned her head towards him and kissed him. She pulled his breath from his body and then breathed it back in. Her tongue, velvet soft, stroked his own and her hands gripped his shirt. She was holding on as tight as she could, desperation and desire battling it out in her small frame.

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the suppleness of her body and the way she pressed in so tight against him. There was nothing he could do to stop his body from responding but he tried to control it. Lifting her up, he laid her on the bed. It was huge so he had to ask her to scoot up.

“Why so bashful?” she teased, “You know I am yours.”  
“This is new information,” he teased back, “I’ll need time to process it.”

Laughing softly, she reached for him, seeking the heat of his body and the gentleness of his touch. He smiled into their shared kiss and felt her love pierce him, binding him to her body and soul. If she asked, he would pull the sky to rest beneath her feet and decorate her hair with stars. Her tender sighs became the celestial music the universe would dance to for millions of years.

He undressed her as he explored her body, her skin growing hot under his touch. He focused on the way she smelled and felt, telling her how it made him feel when he swirled his tongue around one nipple while he massaged her other breast, moving back and forth until her sighs turned to low moans. He was giving her back her body, taken away by a mad man, one inch at a time.

Kissing the centre of her chest, he moved down the gentle slope of her abdomen. Easing his hands under her hips, he slid his fingers under the waistband of her pants and pulled them, as well as her underwear, off. She shivered in the cool, damp air but there was a flush on her skin, running up her chest to her cheeks. All of her focus was on him, her eyes glittering like moonlight over the water.

Pushing himself down the bed, he was able to use the width of his shoulders to open her legs. He breathed across her, causing her to gasp, before tenderly kissing the satiny soft skin of her inner thighs. Without closing his eyes, he covered her with his mouth, letting his tongue explore her delicate flesh and circling her clit with hard firm strokes.

He moved her legs closer to his head, creating a deeper, more intense sensation. Using his strength, he kept them still even though she was trying to open them wide. With a soft chuckle she stopped trying to out muscle him and gave into the undulating pressure of his mouth and tongue. Her hands found their way to his head, trying to grasp his hair, anything to hold onto as he increased the way he sucked and licked her sensitive clit.

When her back arched off the bed, he eased up, drawing out the moment. It was too quick to let her climax just yet. He knew what she needed. It brought back memories of the early days of their relationship when he would experience night terrors associated with his PTSD. He would leave his body, becoming untethered from their shared reality, and she would coax him back into his skin and mind.

Dover had introduced the idea that she could be erased, consumed for his sick, sadistic pleasure. He had created a wormhole through the Havenrock scar she had in her mind and let her think her body was disposable, that he could remove pieces of her while she was alive and turn them to meat.

It was his job now to create ecstasy in place of terror, desire in place of fear and love in place of hate. His own desire for her had enveloped them both in a haze of erotic, lust fueled need but he wanted her to feel coveted. He had no words to describe how it felt to know he could make her feel like the only woman in the world, that she was the only woman for him in this and any other life time.

Covering her once more with his mouth, he tenderly sucked in long, powerful movements knowing he was bringing her once more to the edge of a back arching orgasm. When her thighs started to quiver, he pushed hard against her clit with his tongue until she cried out. She was gasping for breath and lost in the intensity of her climax.

While he waited for her to catch her breath, he quickly stripped down, knowing they both needed to feel the other’s skin. Easing back between her legs, he left a trail of soft, wet kisses up her body until he could look her in the eyes.

“I think I had an out of body experience,” she chuckled softly, running her hands up his back, over his shoulders and down his chest.  
“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

He gasped when her hands grasped his erect cock. He didn’t need any help but she gently squeezed and stroked him until he started to pant. He opened his eyes and looked at her, at the peacefulness and love in her expression. She smiled into the kiss he stole from her, sighed as he trailed his lips down her neck, rejoicing in the soft skin he found there, and gripped his shoulders when he eased into her, burying his cock all the way inside her.

“Stay on top,” she whispered in his ear, “let me watch you from here.”

She wrapped her legs around him, high up by his waist. In response, he brought his knees up, to take his weight off of her but also to allow him to sit up so that he could see her body, where they were joined, and let her see his.

Her body was pulsing, electric and hot, giving off waves of heat and energy. He watched her face and saw the hesitancy still lingering on her face. Slipping his hands under back, he lifted her up so that she straddled his lap. Shifting so he was sitting cross legged under her, he waited.

“What do you need?” he asked, his voice low in his throat.  
“Only you,” she murmured, her hands caressing his face, “I will always, always, always need only you.”

She kissed him then, gentle and sweet, and he felt a rush of desire that almost knocked him onto his back. He wrapped his arms around her waist, encircling with his arms, and let her set the pace that she needed and not the one he wanted her to need. It was a fine line between the two but they both knew where it was and honoured the unspoken request.

The only sound in the room was that of their bodies meeting in a powerful and steady beat. Her body felt luxurious, like hot, wet satin, in how it was wrapped around his cock. He bit the inside of his lip to stem the rush of his own orgasm. It was a tidal wave of heat that spread out from his pelvis, threatening to overwhelm him, to explode out of him with enormous force.

Felicity pulled his head up and kissed him, sucking on his tongue, biting his lip. Her hips moved faster, grinding against his as she demanded pleasure, taking it from him with thrust after thrust until he was dizzy. He bent forward, cradling her in his arms, and kissed her neck, her chest, finding and gently sucking first one nipple and then the other, making them hard and her moan.

“I love you, Oliver, oh God, just so much,” she whispered, her voice fluttering past his ear.  
“I will always love you, Felicity, always,” he murmured, searching for her lips, “More and more each day.”

He kissed her just as her body clamped down on cock, squeezing him so tight he groaned in ecstasy. Her orgasm seemed to come in waves, pummeling him, pulling him along with each crest. She clung to him, her body shuddering with each peak, and he could no longer keep his own in check. With a powerful thrust, he buried himself in her body and felt his cock swell and throb with an ache that reached his heart, and he poured himself deep inside her.

He felt fractured from the intensity of his orgasm. There was no desperation in it, no mind altering need that he was seeking to fulfill like in his youth. With Felicity it was always a balance of combined desires, he wanted to respect her needs while seeking to fulfill his own but always out of a powerful and deeply felt love. This time there was a subtle shift this time, one that didn’t surprised him so much as reaffirm that she was his soulmate. Throughout it all, she had trusted him to wait. It had been instinctual but he had waited for her to find that moment where she finally reconnected to her body.

And now, in the warm glow coming from the fireplace they both wished were real, they held each other with a burgeoning sense of happiness after all of the horror and depravity of the past 48 hours. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed in complete contentment. No words were needed, not now, _not yet_.

 

Stanley  
Aftermath

_When the alarm sounded that the door to her cell had been opened, he almost bellowed in rage. There should have been no way for her to open the door, he had constructed it himself and no one on this planet knew the schematics for it._

_The elevator he had originally installed was designed to be reminiscent of industrial ones, the kinds with large sliding grates not doors. He had then redesigned the system to incorporate a larger motor and counterweight. The elevator was fast but not fast enough to catch Felicity before she found the door that lead to the stairwell._

_What she didn’t know was that the door at the top was a four inch thick reinforced steel door with a pneumatic locking system. She would never get out. But it didn’t stem his rage. No, when he got his hands on her he intended to rip her heart out using only his hands and teeth. He would make her scream and beg for her life, but that life would end on the steps she was climbing now._

_What he hadn’t factored in was the arrival of the Green Arrow, or who he perceived to be the Green Arrow based on the explosion that blew the door in. There was only one explanation as to why he was here and why he was rescuing Felicity. The Mayor of Star City, her husband, Oliver Queen was the vigilante known as the Green Arrow._

_This time, he bellowed as he ran. He screamed in rage. He cursed and shouted and vowed that he would find them both, that now he knew who her husband really was and he would find them no matter where they hid. He was almost at the top of the stairs when the larger explosion hit._

_It was sheer luck that he managed to be near the top of the stairs when the bomb attached to the wall of the garage went off. A steel beam fell, creating a sort of mini wall, that protected him from the larger pieces of falling concrete. But not all._

_He was hit with smaller pieces of debris, some so small they acted like bullets, penetrating his skin and exploding in his body. Larger pieces broke bones. He was being defeated bit by bit, bone by bone. The irony of it was not lost on him as he had intended his prey to experience just what he was going through._

_Reaching into his pocket, with an arm shredded by the concrete shrapnel, he tapped out an emergency code on his phone. It sent out a series of encrypted emails to his lawyers, financial managers, CFO of his company, the heads of the major media outlets, both nationally and locally, and police and fire rescue._

_His doctor would also be notified and take him to a private clinic that he funded. The house would need to be destroyed. There was no way the room he had built could ever be discovered because in the furthest corner, where no light could penetrate, was a series of racks and freezers._

_They were full of the meat he had expertly butchered from the family from the Glades. He had kept only the tenderest pieces and the racks were where he hung them, to bleed them dry, to age them._

_He remembered the way the father had wept as he watched his wife die. How he had sobbed until he threw up and screamed when she was dismembered. Stanley wished he had recorded it but knew better than to leave those kinds of records behind. Instead, he had a duplicate rack in a spare bedroom where he tied up and fucked sex workers on nights when he hand wasn’t enough. He was always careful to not go too far and never called for the same girl twice._

_This built a reputation for him on the street. The Eastern European women didn’t bat an eyelash at this behaviour so he was careful to avoid them. He needed to see real fear in the woman’s eyes. He needed to know that they understood death was in the room with them. Waiting in the shadows._

_His last waking thought was about the foundations of the house he had built. He had bought a one hundred year old house and surrounding property, demolished it and rebuild his estate on its bones. The ghosts that haunted his halls would not stay quiet for long. He would rebuild, he thought as darkness closed in. He would rebuild and then he would find them._


End file.
